When it Snows
by TheBlueSwan
Summary: Dean unknowingly left Rory a souvenir from their tryst in Miss Patty's dance studio. Now Rory has to face Lorelai, Yale & her grandparents, while Dean finally abandons denial & see's exactly what it is he got himself mixed up in as he was pining away for Rory. Originally posted on tania15. Removed from original account due to technical difficulties and reposted here.
1. The Past is Prologue

**Spoilers:** Everything up until 5x01 remains exactly as it was in the series. After 5x01 some material from season 5 will make its way into the story, but mostly the story will diverge greatly from canon.

 **Summary:** Dean unknowingly left Rory a souvenir of their tryst in Miss Patty's dance studio. Now she has to face Lorelai, Yale and her grandparents. Meanwhile Dean finally abandons denial and realises exactly what it is he got himself mixed up in while he was pining away for Rory.

 **Warnings:** I originally wrote this story during one of my more melodramatic moods, so adjust your expectations accordingly. I make no apologies.

 **Rating:** Rated M for some cussing.

 **Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note:** Hello all! Some of you might recognize this story, as it was previously posted on my original account, tania15. As a result of technical difficulties with the account in question, I was forced to close it down for good. I am now reposting some of my content onto my new account, TheBlueSwan.

To the readers that have followed WS since 2009, I wish you all to know how very grateful I am for your support and continued interest. You are the ones who have motivated me into reworking WS. You should know that this edition of WS is uncut – any and all content that I had originally wrote for WS has been reintroduced to the story. You will also be pleased to learn that, after electing not to write a sequel for WS, I have expanded the story beyond the scope I had originally planned for it, and settled its dangling storylines. All of those little bits and bobs that I had purposely left unfinished are thus resolved is this new edition of WS.

I realise that this AN has been quite lengthy, and I apologise for that. It simply couldn't be helped.

Thank you, and enjoy. Be sure to review, it will help motivate me to finish reviewing this story as swiftly as possible.

Merry Christmas all!

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **The Past Is Prologue**

* * *

 **Saturday September 4** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (The Dragon Fly Inn) 11:19 a.m.**

Francis Duchesne bustled about the kitchen. It was nearing lunch time at the _Dragonfly Inn_ and the kitchen aids were presently in the process of applying a few final touches to the day's menu. Upon the stove, a lovely concoction of fresh tomatoes, red onions, carrots and basil simmered away, its aroma permeating the air. Francis couldn't help but sigh at the lovely aromatic smell.

Mother Nature had been out of sorts as of late, the weather being quite a bit cooler than the norm. Although the days were quite comfortable, the nights had recently taken to plummeting to temperatures typically observed in late September and early October. As a result the head chef herself, the lovely Sookie St. James, had decreed that a potage was to be served with lunch throughout the week. Today's potage was a creamy tomato basil soup that would certainly prove quite effective in chasing away that morning chill.

Francis eagerly retrieved a small spoonful of the potage and savored its taste. It was almost perfect – but not quite. It lacked, in Francis' expert opinion, a teaspoon of salt.

With no small amount of enthusiasm, Francis retrieved a container of salt and set about measuring out just the right amount…

His endeavour, however, was quite rudely interrupted by the sudden appearance of a wooden spoon.

 _Smack!_

Francis yelped.

… _Damnit that stung!_

Defensively, Francis pulled back his injured right hand and hid it within the crook of his left arm. As his mind fully registered the attack, his left hand tightened around the opened salt container.

Anger – and a certain mutinous gleam burned in his eyes.

With harsh uncoordinated jabs, his left arm flayed about, brandishing the salt container threateningly in the general direction of the offending spoon.

With a most gruesome scowl upon his face, Francis' gaze found that pugnacious individual that had dared to attack him, intent on dressing down the offender in question for their audacity. His determination, however, woefully deflated in the face of an irate Sookie St. James. Startled, the misguided youth jerked back the hand brandishing the opened salt container.

It was thus, with no small amount of horror, that Francis watched as his hereto weapon of choice ejected a small shower of salt onto his employer.

Silence reigned within the kitchen.

The present staff had all but been struck mute at the sheer absurdity of the scene before them. Daisy, the assistant chef, was barely able to keep herself from laughing at Francis' latest misstep. Several months ago, when Francis had been hired, Dairy had assumed the man's eagerness in the kitchen could one day prove to give her some amusement. Daisy, however, had thoroughly underestimated Francis' propensity towards the ridiculous – and she now happily found herself excessively diverted throughout the day.

Thus Daisy watched, barely able to contain her laughter, as her employer sternly raised the wooden spoon and directed Francis back to his station – the noble cutting board.

Francis grimaced as he slowly, shamefully made his way back to the loathsome cutting board.

For the remainder of their shift, Daisy couldn't help but be excessively amused at the manner in which Francis sulked about at having his culinary aspirations thwarted once again.

* * *

 **Saturday September 4th 2004, Stars Hollow (The Dragonfly Inn) 11:24 a.m.**

Sookie let out a frustrated sigh at this new turn of events.

It was enough to convince her that the town had finally fallen into madness – a rather ironic conclusion if there ever was one. It was, after all, quite a well-known fact that Stars Hollow was by no means a typical small town. Many of its inhabitants were considered eccentrics within their own rights, making the ordinary individual the odd man out in this particular corner of the world. Town foolery was always to be found in Stars Hollow, rendering the absurd quite common in this particular small town. But even Sookie had to concede that some of the town's denizens were acting even barmier than typical – her best friend being one such prime example.

Sookie cringed as she thought of Lorelai's behavior these past months. Stalking the halls of the Dragonfly like an unholy banshee, ruling over the employees with an iron fist and scaring the maids half to death by glaring at them. These were not traits typically associated with Lorelai Gilmore. They were, however, traits that Sookie feared the staff had grown all too accustomed to this past summer. She actively hoped that she was wrong in this instance. However, the red head had noticed that the staff had lately taken up the habit of referring to Lorelai in rather colorful terms. This, unfortunately, seemed to support the conclusion that many of the staff had taken umbrage to Lorelai's abrupt change in management style.

Sookie couldn't help but wince as she thought of the entire situation. She could only hope that Lorelai would remain ignorant to the particular atmosphere brewing in her inn. The current state of things being as they were, heads would likely find themselves rolling away if Lorelai noticed that the staff had begun to refer to her as _Medusa._

That would _not_ be good to say the least.

If Sookie could just get Lorelai to open up about what was wrong, she was certain that things would get at least a little better. But every time she asked, Lorelai evaded the subject and insisted that nothing was wrong – that everything was fine – _dandy_ even. If Sookie hadn't been suspicious to begin with, Lorelai's use of the word _dandy_ would have certainly raised quite a few alarms. As it was, the word's sudden appearance in her best friend's vocabulary only served to heighten her concern. Sookie had, over the course of the past few months, been able to conclude that Rory was at the root of the problem in question. However, beyond figuring out that Lorelai's unusual behavior was in some way linked to Rory, and possibly Rory's sudden departure for Europe, Sookie remained ignorant of the details. Whatever it was that had happened, the chef truly hoped that the matter would soon be resolved – if only for the sake of her sanity.

After having been forced to evict a petulant Lorelai from the _Dragonfly_ , under the pretext of forcing the woman to take a day off, Sookie had warned Michel to stand guard at the front. Sookie herself would make sure Lorelai didn't attempt to sneak in through the back. With any luck, a few hours to herself might help put Lorelai in a better mood. It was a long shot to say the least – but it was the only option they had at the moment. Truthfully, Sookie wasn't sure how much longer she and Michel could keep this up. She had noticed the maids seemed evermore disgruntled as the weeks passed, and Sookie began to worry that a mutiny might be imminent if Lorelai didn't snap out of it soon.

To add to her litany of growing problems, it now looked like she would have to keep an eye on the enthusiastic twenty year old manning the cutting board – lest he took it upon himself to ruin her menu.

It was just now nearing mid-day, but Sookie was already exhausted.

* * *

 **Saturday September 4th 2004, Stars Hollow (The Dragonfly Inn – On the Porch) 11:27 a.m.**

Lorelai exited _The Dragonfly_ pouting. She did not _lord_ over the maids like her mother did…

Did she?

No! _Nu-uh._

Not even remotely possible.

There had to be another explanation. She was nothing like her mother, and she would never be anything like that woman. She refused to be anything like Emily Gilmore. Every fibre of her being rebelled against the very thought of having anything in common with her _mother._

Lorelai snorted, shuffled her feet and crossed her arms defensively. _She was acting like her mother_ … As if!

Defensively, Lorelai tightened her grip on her purse, straightened her spine and prepared to march back into the inn and convince Sookie otherwise. However, before she could even take a step towards the front door, Lorelai's demeanor faltered. Her posture slumped as she realised that if she were to go through with her hasty plan – that if she were to march back in to the inn and order her best friend to reconsider her opinion – then indeed she would be acting just as Emily Gilmore would.

The thought alone put a scowl on her face. Forced to reconsider her plan of action, Lorelai floundered. She didn't know what to do next. Should she do as Sookie suggested and just go home? Lorelai groaned – the idea sounded less than appealing. Home these days was too quiet – too lonely. At least if she kept busy, than she could ignore the thoughts and worries crawling around her mind, trying to pry their way to the surface. As she mulled over some more attractive options, Lorelai's gaze wandered around and caught upon the sight of her gardener planting a batch of blue morning glories right next to her red woodland fairy bells.

Those would clash horribly.

Cringing, Lorelai approached the man. Just as she was about to suggest to him that he might want to reconsider the arrangement, Rick Springfield's _Jessie's Girl_ bellowed from her purse. Keeping one eye trained on the gardener ruining her flower beds, Lorelai riffled through the contents of her purse and retrieved her cellphone.

A quick glance at the caller ID and her gardener's horrific taste in floral arrangement slipped her mind altogether.

Lorelai's mouth dropped open in surprise, her breath leaving her altogether. She remained gobsmacked for several moments, her mouth open and closing quite a few times as Springfield repeated the chorus. Finally, Lorelai regained sound and emitted a little squeak as air once more returned to her lungs. Flustered, her gaze jumped around before settling upon the porch swing to her left. She advanced towards it with single minded intent, her movement rough and lacking her typical grace. Unceremoniously, Lorelai plopped down upon the swing. She looked at her daughter's name upon the caller ID once more and released a long shuddering breath.

Composing herself she flipped the cellphone open, answering the call.

"Hello," Lorelai said her voice catching. There was a pause, and the mother couldn't help but wonder if Rory had decided to hang up in the interim.

"It's me," Rory replied hesitantly.

Lorelai grip on the cell tightened, "Oh. Hello."

"Is this a bad time?" Rory asked tentatively, "Are you busy?"

Lorelai bit her lip for a moment, her eyes straying back towards the gardener. They narrowed as she watched him mishandling her flower beds before her attention was brought back to the call by the sound of Rory shuffling on the other end. "Uh," Lorelai cleared her throat, "Trying not to be, how are you doing?"

"Good. You?" Her daughter murmurs.

"Good," she responded, her voice clipped. Lorelai wasn't about to fold just because her daughter had finally deigned to acknowledge her existence once more.

The conversation stalled for a moment. "I was at the corner of Bark and Cheese today," Rory declared, her voice very small and uncertain.

The mother smiled, disarmed by the memory. "Bark and Cheese? Really?" Her frosty demeanor dissipated.

Encouraged, Rory laughed. "And it's exactly the same."

"Exactly the same? Was there a tiny, little Italian dog in a basket barking the whole time you were there?" Lorelai laughed.

"Not this time, but I definitely had flashbacks," the young woman chuckled.

A mischievous glint overtook the mother's features. "Did you have a nice piece of cheese with your coffee?"

Rory pouted at the reminder of her old folly. "I still say I said the correct word for cream in Italian. I even pointed at my coffee when I asked for it. How could I be asking for cheese?"

"But cheese you were brought," Lorelai teased.

"Stinky cheese. The worse, don't forget," Rory scrunched up her nose in distaste.

"That you proceeded to eat," the mother laughed.

"Because I hate people who make mistakes when they order, especially in a foreign country, and then make a big to-do when they get the wrong thing. Ugly Americans. Yuck," Rory bit back, her expression set in a grumpy little pout.

Alight with victory, Lorelai jumped upon Rory's little slip of the tongue. "Aha! You admit it was a mistake. You did say _cheese_ ," she gloated.

Rory groaned. "I know French, a bit of Spanish, but my Italian – not so good."

"Being trilingual is plenty for a young lady," Lorelai conceded.

"Yeah," Rory paused. "Mom?"

Lorelai stopped laughing at the sound of Rory's sombre tone, "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry," Rory said her voice fraught with emotion.

The mother sighed. After a long moment Lorelai responded with, "It's okay."

Rory choked for a moment, attempting to hold back a sob. "I screwed up. I screwed up so bad. I handled everything wrong."

"Oh, honey," tears sting Lorelai's eyes.

Rory wipes at the tears falling down her face. "I keep reliving everything over and over. It's such a mess. I just want to fix it. I have to fix it," her daughter said, determined.

"You will," she promised.

Rory sighed. "I know. I just - I need a favour."

"Okay," Lorelai answered immediately.

"It's big," she stalled for a moment.

Cautious, but still determined, Lorelai replied once more with an affirmative, and Rory explained hesitantly. "I wrote a letter... to Dean. Could you get it to him?"

Surprised at the request, Lorelai is less than eloquent in her reply. "Oh."

"I don't know how else to do it. I can't just mail it to his apartment. It's a big favor," the daughter conceded.

Lorelai fumbled momentarily with her reply. "Honey, I don't know."

"It's a lot to ask, but I think that this will make everything better. Please. Please. I can't wait until I get home. I have to do something now," Rory pleaded with her mother.

"A letter, huh? Well, get it to me, and I will get it to him," Lorelai sighed.

"Thank you. Thank you," Rory said relieved.

"Have some espresso and limburger for me," she smiled.

Rory laughed. "I will. I love you, mom."

"I love you, too. Bye," Lorelai smiled.

"Bye," Rory said her voice catching.

Lorelai took in a long breath and hung up. Momentarily her body relaxes into the swing and she felt inordinately lighter than she had all summer.

 _Things will be better now._

She no longer had to be tense with worry. Rory will be coming home soon, and things will eventually go back to normal. She could relax, no longer needing to keep busy at every second of every day in order to keep her thoughts at bay.

Lorelai smiled…

The sound of the gardener shuffling around in her flowerbeds pricked at her ears…

Unable to help herself, her gaze zeroed in on the gardener...

Lorelai frowned as she realised that the gardener in question was presently preparing to add a selection of white Camelot Lilies to her flowerbeds.

After having spent months always on the move, always working, always having an opinion on the work of others, she had grown into the habit of nitpicking every little thing. Before Lorelai even realised what she was doing, she had already begun attempting to persuade the gardener to reconsider the arrangement. And just as she was about to tell the gardener exactly what she thought of his arrangement, Lorelai was startled by a loud thud.

Looking behind her, Lorelai found Sookie scowling at her through the window, tapping and shooing her away with wild, angry gestures.

* * *

 **Saturday September 4th 2004, Rome 6:11 p.m.**

Rory stared at the letter. Her stomach was in knots, and she felt that, given half a chance, it would relieve itself of her breakfast quite happily. She looked at the mailbox, and fidgeted with the letter, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Rory hadn't yet been able to bring herself to drop the letter in the mail box. She'd been standing there, looking like an idiot for a good ten minutes. To add insult to injury, as Rory fought to ignore the bile rising in her throat, she couldn't help but notice that her behavior had garnered quite a bit of attention.

Rory told herself that she was being stupid. She had to send the letter. Rory knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Yet, she kept delaying. A part of her felt that as long as she simply held onto the letter, she could disregard her situation, and pretend that things were as she wished them to be.

It was a ridiculous notion.

Nothing was the way she wanted it to be.

After she'd had sex with Dean, Rory had justified the incident to her mother by simply stating that Dean loved her.

 _He was her Dean._

They loved each other.

Dean's marriage to Lindsay hadn't mattered. In Rory's affected state, it had seemed to be just a trifle little thing. Certainly not something that could ever hope to surpass her feelings for Dean, nor his feelings for her. Alas, the harsh truth remained, and in the cold light of day she could only willfully shut it out for so long. In time, Lorelai Gilmore was proven right, as she so often was. Time and distance had invariably done their work, and the reality of the situation she now found herself in had finally presented itself to Rory.

He wasn't her Dean.

 _He wasn't her anything._

He was, however, someone else's husband. And no amount of justifications on her part would alter that simple fact. What they had shared that evening, though special in Rory's mind, was not the long awaited romantic reunion of two lovers separated by time and circumstance, as Rory had initially convinced herself. It was not the conclusion of a long period of separation, nor was it the climax of a romantic tale. And it most definitely was not the beginning of her happily ever after.

It was, in the crudest of terms, adultery.

She was not the heroine of the tale as she so often imagined herself to be. She was the monstrous villain who sought to tear everything asunder. She was the other woman, a woman of loose morals who had willingly slept with a married man. Worse, Rory acknowledged, she had then attempted to justify the act to all and sundry. Having sex with Dean was wrong. Allowing herself to express her feelings for him, both physically and vocally, was wrong. It might have felt right at the time – perfect even – but it was the worst of follies. Now, with a clearer mind, Rory could acknowledge to herself that that night should have never happened in the first place – though the admission wounded her terribly.

By sending this letter, Rory would be abandoning the fantasy and surrendering to the reality of the wrong she had committed. She would be admitting her fault to another person, to Dean, if not to the person she had wronged the most, Lindsay. This one letter would ultimately shatter the few remaining shards of the fantasy she had built up for them and dissolve any notion Dean might have of a reprise upon her return home.

 _This letter was her final goodbye._

* * *

 **Tuesday September 7th 2004, Stars Hollow (Doose's Market) 3:35 p.m.**

Dean Forester had never been inspired by the written word. He had never dwelled upon the works of famous philosophers and scholars such as Plato or Simone de Beauvoir. Nor had he ever thrived on academic success. And unlike many of his peers, he did not care much for social status of any kind. Dean had always been comfortable with the life he led, and never once had he begrudged the future it would undoubtedly bring him. He would graduate from High School with mediocre grades and, with fate's blessing, attend a third rate college. Soon after, he would settle down into a dead-end job and live the American dream, earning minimum wage, and spending the rest of his life being overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated.

Dean had never believed he could achieve anything more, nor had he ever dreamed otherwise. That had all changed when his parents had decided to leave the city in favor of small town life. Moving to Stars Hollow had irrevocably changed his life, because it was in Stars Hollow that Dean met Rory Gilmore. She had been the one to convince him not to settle for less than he deserved – that he was worth much more than what most thought of him – that he could accomplish so much more, if he only had the mind to reach for it. Even when their relationship was fraught, Dean never doubted that Rory wanted the best for him.

Her support had made a marked difference in his life. His family loved him, that he knew beyond a single doubt. However, they never pushed him to achieve more in life, nor did they expect him to amount to much more than a working hand, going from job to job as needed in order to feed the family. How could they? When they themselves had never expected anything more out of their own lives, nor had their parents before them, and so on. So, why would Dean want more out of his life than that which generations of their family before him had ever achieved?

Rory, however, had loathed the prospect of him settling for less. Even after they had broken up, and he had married someone else, Rory had continued to encourage him, to believe that he was better than he believed himself to be.

Their friendship had survived so much, and yet, it only took him less than twenty-four hours to completely destroy everything. Dean hadn't heard from Rory in nearly four months now. He'd heard that she had gone away to tour Europe with her grandmother during the summer, but otherwise details appeared to be scarce. The timing of it all was not lost on Dean. She had decided to leave right after their night together, and Rory had failed to mention the trip during their time at Miss. Patty's. He had known then that his relationship with Rory was in the process of falling apart, and was desperate for even the slightest chance of putting things to right, lest everything was burnt to cinders.

Yet any hope he had of putting things back to rights dissolved earlier that morning, when a solemn faced Lorelai Gilmore had entered the market and handed him a letter from Rory.

* * *

 _Dear Dean,_

 _I hope you will forgive me for the abruptness of this letter. I spent a long time contemplating how and what I should write. For some reason I managed to convince myself earlier on that if I could just find the right way to go about it, somehow all of this would be less painful. Stupid, I know, but there you have it. Although this fact might have been obvious to anyone else, it took me weeks to realise that there was no right way to go about any of this, nor was there any conceivable way to make this process anything less than excruciatingly painful._

 _With that in mind I need you to know that the night we shared together was special. You were my first and only – my first kiss, my first love, my first everything. And I know sometimes it might not have seemed like it, but I never did stop loving you. I think that is part of the reason why I couldn't bring myself to see that we had done something wrong in being together that night. But I can't pretend otherwise anymore Dean._

 _You're married to someone else._

 _You were married to someone else when we slept together, and I imagine, that despite what you told me that night, you are still married to someone else. As such, I have decided that the best thing for me to do now is to remove myself from the equation._

 _Love you always,_

 _Rory Gilmore_

* * *

 **Tuesday September 7th 2004, Stars Hollow (Doose's Market) 6:52 p.m.**

When Dean returned home that night, he immediately placed the letter in a box hidden underneath the floorboards of his closet. Therein he kept a number of mementos from his time with Rory. Mementos he would occasionally take out and fondly reminisce over when his wife was not home.

The letter, however, was different. Dean didn't want to look at it any longer than he had to. There would be no fond remembrance where that letter was concerned – all it would remind him of was what he had lost.

* * *

 **Tuesday September 7** **th** **2004, Rome 9:47 a.m.**

Rory looked about the hotel room one last time, making certain that neither she nor her grandmother had forgotten any of their things. She had checked over the suite twice already, but couldn't seem to fight the compulsion to give the place one last final sweep. Not that it would have mattered in the grand scheme of things. Rory had no doubt that given the posh nature of the hotel in question, the staff would see to it that any forgotten belongings would be promptly returned to their owners via express air mail.

Rory fluttered about, a nervous sort of energy apparent in her demeanor. Today at half past noon they would be boarding a plane bound for New York. Her grandmother had decided that they would spend the night in town before taking a limousine home on Wednesday.

All in all, her grandmother had done her best to extend their trip as far as she conceivably could manage.

Rory tried not to be disheartened by the implications this placed upon the state of her grandparents' marriage. Despite these bad omens, she hoped that the storm would settle soon and her grandparents would reconcile. Recent events had created a need within Rory for the stability of the past. Between the mess she had made with Dean, her feuding grandparents and the recent upset with her own mother, Rory had spent the summer in knots, her stomach nauseously churning on and off. Recently, however, the young woman had begun to fear that her upset stomach may be the result of something more than just stress.

* * *

 **Edited May 15 2017**


	2. Discontented

**Author's Note:** Hello all, I just wanted to apologise for the lack of updates on WS. My computer crashed on Boxing Day and took out everything on it – including all versions of WS. It is by sheer miracle alone that I stumbled upon an old external hard drive of mine with a copy of WS on it. Unfortunately, this particular copy hasn't been updated since 2010.

The good – I now have almost all of the original WS content. The bad – all of the extensive editing – and I do mean _extensive –_ that WS has undergone since 2010 is now officially lost forever. As such, updates will be sparse until I can get some kind of handle on all the editing and rewriting I have to do.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Discontented**

* * *

 **Wednesday September 8th 2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 7:21 p.m.**

"Could you pass the gravy Barbie? I think you've hogged it long enough," Clara hissed and glared at the bottle blonde woman sitting in front of her.

"Clara!" Bella Forester scolded her daughter's deplorable table manners.

"What?" Clara glared at all seated at dinner table. "She has," the teenager said petulantly.

It was Sunday night, and the Foresters were all gathered around the dinner table sharing a family meal. Dean often wondered why Lindsay insisted they attend dinner at his parents every week. He loved his family as much as anyone else. However it wasn't as if the family dinners were an enjoyable affair. Clara had always despised Lindsay with a passion. Upon meeting Lindsay for the first time, his sister insisted that he should break up with the blonde bimbo. The situation only worsened as his relationship with Lindsay progressed. On the day of their wedding, Clara had thrown a fit, refusing to change out of her sweats and into her bridesmaid dress. Dean couldn't blame his sister. The peach dress, with all of its ruffles and its poufy sleeves, and its giant orange bow tacked at the front was truly awful.

When Dean had seen it for the first time, he had cringed at the sight, and felt rightfully sorry for his little sister. Lindsay, however, had simply smirked, and any attempt from Dean at convincing his fiancee to choose another dress had resulted in a fit. As such, he had ultimately decided to let Lindsay do as she wished, though he was quite certain that she had only chosen the dress in question in order to goad his sister. Clara had grumbled the entire morning of his wedding day. She had even snuck into his dressing room several times to try to talk him out of getting married.

Dean had never heard her cuss so much in his life.

Once it became apparent that the wedding party wouldn't be deterred, Clara became eerily quiet. They had honestly thought the teenager had tired herself out.

They should have known better.

A couple of hours prior to the wedding, Clara had seemingly disappeared. No one could find her. When it neared the time for the procession to start, and it became clear that Clara would not be returning, everyone simply concluded that his sister had decided to boycott the wedding.

Undeterred by this, the bride ordered that the wedding would go on as planned, minus her fourth bridesmaid. Looking back on it now, Dean couldn't help but believe that his wife hadn't been all that phased by Clara's disappearance. In fact, although he hadn't realised it at the time, Dean now knew that Lindsay had been quite pleased to find his sister missing from the wedding party.

Clara had re-emerged just as the bride was about to march out onto the aisle, startling Lindsay. Before his _lovely_ bride to be managed to regain her wits and stop her, Clara had cut ahead of Lindsay and followed the bridesmaids to the altar.

The little devil had preened as she walked down the aisle in her designated peach dress, drawing the attention of all assembled. She had even given the audience a little twirl to emphasize the voluminous layers of ruffles and that horrid orange bow – _as if anyone could miss them._

Despite how horrendous it had all seemed at the time, Dean couldn't help but be amused at his sister's antics that day.

She had dyed her hair _purple_ , and wore _purple_ make-up to match.

But the biggest insult, Dean supposed, had been that his sister had tie dyed _the dress._

Purple splotches merged with the peach fabric and orange bow creating a nauseating effect. He didn't know how she had managed to pull it off in such a short amount of time, but he suspected that she had simply dumped the dye on, shoved the dress in the dryer and crossed her fingers. Not that he believed that his sister had been all too worried about how the dress would come out, given that making a show of herself had been her intention.

The horrified expression of all assembled that day would forever be branded in his mind. Miss. Patty had looked positively green at the sight his sister made, not to mention the big infuriated scowls the wedding party sported. Mrs. Lister had looked ready to strangle Clara if given the opportunity. And although most of the wedding party had managed to bite their lips and compose their features into a facsimile of joy as Lindsay stepped out onto the aisle, his bride had failed quite miserably on that score.

Lindsay walked down the aisle that day, murder gleaming in her eyes, and her mouth contorted into the ugliest scowl he had ever seen.

That scowl had deepened as she advanced down the aisle, her fury escalating as Lindsay realised that she was not the center of attention. Rather than _basking in her beauty_ , as she herself had put it, the assembled congregation hadn't been quite able to tear their eyes away from the sight his sister had made.

Things had not gotten any better as the ceremony progressed. Although Clara had looked quite serene throughout the ceremony, his bride was less than joyful. Dean had attempted to regain control of the situation by resolutely ignoring his sister, but Lindsay had made the task more than a little bit difficult with her antics. As the priest went on about the sanctity and joy of marriage, Lindsay's pinched gaze had kept straying towards his sister, her face rearranging itself once more into the ferocious scowl which had made his bride look less than attractive.

In short, Lindsay had pretty much spent the entire ceremony scowling.

She hadn't even calmed down when they had been exchanging their vows. Instead, Lindsay had glared at Clara throughout most of the exchange. And his sister, the purple and peach monstrosity that she had been at the time, had simply returned his bride's hostile sneer with a victorious grin of her own.

The cheeky little brat had even winked a couple of times.

Needless to say, any chance that Clara and Lindsay had ever had of getting along shrivelled away and died that day.

Any reminder of the incident in question left Clara smirking and Lindsay in tears – _tears of humiliation and utter fury._

On such occasions, his parents, mistaking Lindsay's tears as a manifestation of misery, would scold Clara quite heavily. Then they would sigh in dismay, the expression on their faces clearly displaying their greatest concern…

 _When did our mild mannered little angel turn into such a belligerent devil?_

Although Dean knew it shouldn't, he just couldn't help but be amused by his sister's irreverent behavior as of late – even more so when his wife was on the receiving end.

The stunt Clara had pulled at their wedding turned out to be the most memorable part of that entire day.

The fact that he cherished his sister's antics much more than the sight of his bride in her wedding dress only served to give greater weight to his current discontent.

It served as proof, even before his night with Rory, that he should never have married Lindsay in the first place.

It also made him wish all the more that he had taken his sister's attempts at breaking up his wedding to heart.

If he had, he wouldn't be in the mess he was currently in. Married to one woman and pining for another.

But such wishes were pointless – especially in his case. Dean had known all along that he hadn't really been in love with Dean – that he would eventually regret marrying her. But he had been hurt over losing Rory, and in his grief, he had allowed himself to use Lindsay as a replacement of sorts. Prior to the whole Jessi debacle, Dean had contemplated asking Rory to marry him once she graduated from Chilton. He had set that notion aside quickly enough, knowing full well that Rory would want to go to college first. Though he was the type of guy who would marry right out of high school, Rory wasn't that type of girl. And in the aftermath of their break-up, marrying Lindsay had felt like a return to what was familiar. Rory had been the unobtainable, Lindsay the reality. Only as Dean returned to the familiar, moved forward in the path that he had always expected to take, he had still dreamed of Rory and what they could have had.

Dean had always known what he wanted. For him, Rory had always been it. But he had done everything he could to convince himself otherwise – and had achieved mild success. Though he had still loved Rory, he had managed to convince himself that marrying Lindsay was what was right for him. It was only now, however, that he began to realize that through his own carelessness and stupidity, he'd gotten in over his head, and he had no idea how to fix things. No matter how Dean played things out in his mind, someone would always get hurt. To add insult to injury, his relationship with Lindsay had been rocky since their wedding day. Lately, they had been getting into fights for no understandable reason. Sometimes it almost felt as if Lindsay was looking for a reason to fight, but he shrugged off the entire ridiculous notion.

Why would his wife purposely be looking to start a fight?

At the end of the day, none of these things changed the reality of his situation. He wanted a divorce, yet couldn't bring himself to vocalise his desire to Lindsay. And as awful as it may sound, his wife had little to do with his hesitance. She wasn't the reason he couldn't bring himself to file for divorce – his parents were. They loved Lindsay, and he had no idea how to extract himself from the situation without hurting them. They were both aware of the frequent fights his wife seemed keen on having. After all, he spent at least half the week sleeping over at their house. Despite this, his parents always encouraged him to patch things up with Lindsay and they would tell him that things would get better soon, that the first few years were the hardest.

Dean didn't want things to get better. He just wanted them to be over.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 8th 2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 8:21 p.m.**

Clara Forester sat at the dinner table watching the little melodrama unfolding before her with satisfaction. She felt a tinge of guilt at watching her brother get his head bitten off by his airhead of a wife, but the emotion was squashed quickly enough when Clara remembered the dolt had willingly married the bitch.

Clara yelped and pulled back her leg from under the table. Defensively, she tucked it under her chair and looked at her parents.

They were glaring at her, no doubt taking issue with her pleased expression. Further examination revealed that her mother appeared quite pleased herself. It only took a moment for the teenager to realise that her own mother had kicked her under the table, and with all the eloquence of her youth, Clara harrumphed and scowled in retaliation.

Her father sighed at their antics and looked heavenwards in a plea for help.

"You _never_ want to do anything Dean! I want to go out! Have fun! I'm nineteen years old Dean, but I am living like a little old maid because my husband can't seem to muster up any interest in doing any of the things I want to do!" Lindsay screeched, her harpy of a voice causing everyone else in the room to cringe at the sound.

Clara crossed her arms and glared at all who dared look at her. She just didn't understand why no one else seemed to see Lindsay for what she truly was – a spoiled, self-centered bitch.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 8th 2004, Stars Hollow (Dean & Lindsay's Apartment) 10:02 p.m.**

Lindsay slammed the door to her small bathroom, scowling at the much too small, much too plain shower stall. She had wanted one of those nice ones, big enough for two, and adorned with decorative glass. She had also wanted a nice claw-foot bath, such as the one her parents owned. Instead, she had to settle for a stall barely big enough for herself, and a bathroom that was smaller than her closet back at home. Lindsay scoffed as she made her way to the outdated sink, and viciously turned the tap on. If Dean could simply get a move on and buy that damn townhouse for her, she could actually start living like a decent human being again!

It was bad enough that she was stuck in this damn apartment. You would think that Dean would understand her misery – but no. He seemed to think that the apartment was actually quite nice. Lindsay snorted – nice! By her standards, the place was positively decrepit. And Dean expected her to be happy living here, in this den full of vermin, with their cheerful little neighbors scurrying about underfoot. Honestly, ever since Lindsay had moved to Stars Hollow as a child, she'd always been of the persuasion that there had to be something contaminating the water supply, if only to explain the sheer oddity of the assembled population.

But worse of all, she was stuck in this damn apartment day in and day out, with nothing to do. Oh, she had entertained herself whilst her husband was gone away at work, _but still_. She shouldn't have had to entertain herself – Dean should have been the one doing so. He should be taking her out to nice restaurants for dancing and fun. He should be falling over himself, catering to her wishes. But no. It was always work, work, and work with Dean. And when he was home at a decent time, he never wanted to go anywhere, saying that he was too tired after having pulled a double shift.

Too tired…

As if!

Dean had never been too tired to spend time with that bastard Gilmore! Why was he too tired to spend time with his own wife?

Urgh!

The whole thing just made her so angry! And that little brat sister of his didn't help matters. Lindsay swore, if she could, she would pluck every little blonde strand of hair out of Clara's head and use them to strangle the girl to death. The little tramp, ruining her wedding the way she did! Why if daddy had been able to get his hands on the girl at the time, the little cunt would have lived to regret it. As it had been, all daddy could do was look on sourly as Mr. Forester simply grounded Clara for a couple of months. If she and Dean hadn't been just starting out life as bride and groom, daddy would have set Mr. Forester straight, and told him how to properly punish the bratty teenager. As it was, they decided to set the matter aside for the day, though the transgression in question had never been forgotten, nor would it ever be forgiven.

Lindsay shook her head, and turned to look at herself in the mirror above the sink. She needed to relax and get ready. She had spent the whole week at home, save for the family dinner she had shared with the Foresters earlier that evening. She had no intention of staying at the apartment any longer than absolutely necessary. Lindsay wanted to go out, have some fun and find someone to entertain her, since her husband couldn't be bothered to do so. As was the case more often than not after having spent the evening in the company of Clara Forester, she and Dean had had a fight, and he was spending the night at his parents' house as punishment for his latest infraction. Little did he know that all of those nights he spent at his parents, she spent elsewhere.

* * *

 **Thursday September 9th 2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 4:13 p.m.**

Things weren't supposed to happen this way. _This_ wasn't supposed to happen, at least not to her. How was she going to get through this? Better yet how was she going to tell her mother? Rory just knew her grandparents would hate her after this. Would her mother hate her too? She doubted she could bear it if it were ever to come to that. She never imagined a scenario that would make her mother hate her. Then again, she never imagined something like this would happen to her.

She had to tell her mom. The only problem was that she didn't want to tell her; she couldn't even bare to imagine the look on her mom's face when she told her the news. But, Rory had to tell her because she needed her mommy. Now more than she ever thought possible. If she could just get her mother to understand, then maybe things wouldn't be so bad. Maybe this could turn out to be good news. Well, at least in a faraway future... far, far away.

It had all begun innocently enough. She had started getting sick a few weeks into her European trip with grandma. Rory instantly attributed it to the flu or some bug she had caught along the way through all the different cities her grandma had brought her to. It was really not all that big of a deal. Nothing really worth worrying about and certainly nothing worth telling her grandma about. Thinking back now, Rory was glad she hadn't mentioned anything to her grandmother. Knowing Emily Gilmore, she would have been dragged to the nearest high end clinic in order to discover what disease ailed her. Rory cringed at the very thought of having only her grandmother present when the doctor would come in to announce the verdict. She sure as hell appreciated that she didn't have to go through that...It wasn't until mid-July that she noticed the weight gain. But she had written that off as the inescapable result of having indulged in all the rich European food her grandmother had treated her to throughout the summer. After all, fancy dishes were many things, but rarely were they calorie controlled…

Still even after Rory had noticed that her stomach was no longer as soft as it once had been, it took her a couple of weeks to bring herself to admit that she might just be…

She was pulled out of her musings rather abruptly when she heard the sound of her mother entering the house. They were supposed to go to Luke's and catch up on all the mother/daughter time that had been squandered away while she had visited Europe with her grandmother. Rory had a feeling that they weren't going to get to the dinner any time soon now though.

Taking a deep breath, she picked herself up from her seated position on the pink tiled floor of her bathroom, standing as confidently as she could. Turning around, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. It wouldn't do to tip her mother off too quickly, although, her mother _was_ Lorelai Gilmore. Knowing when something was wrong in her daughter's life was one of her many gifts, annoying as it was sometimes.

Rory used the sleeve of her shirt in order to wipe away the tears, a difficult feat to accomplish considering the fact that there were more than a few tears still falling out of her clear blue eyes. Her eyes were puffy. Her nose was red and still running a bit. Not to mention the fact that her hair was in a state of disarray. All in all, she looked like a train wreck. It was official: her mother would know that something was wrong the second her eyes would set on her.

"Lucy I'm home!"

Suffice to say that her mother was a rather unique person, even though she did have some moments which the general populace could term _normal._

Rory's eyes darted towards the locked door that kept the elder woman from entering the bathroom, before returning to the four objects laid out on the counter. She grabbed all four of them and shoved them into the pocket of her loose Yale hoodie. Slowly, she walked towards the white wooden door and exited the bathroom. To say that she felt as she was marching towards the firing squad would not be an understatement of any kind.

Her mother was in the kitchen, although what she was doing in there remained a mystery to Rory. It was a well-known fact that Lorelai Gilmore did not cook, just as well known as the fact that anything cooked by Lorelai could be classified as possibly lethal for a person stupid enough to ingest it. Rory hovered at the entrance of the kitchen, not sure if it would be best to wait or just get it over with quickly.

After hesitating a few seconds longer, Rory finally gathered enough courage to enter the kitchen and face her fate. "Hey mom."

Lorelai smiled. "There's my little groundhog. I was wondering where you were hiding."

Her mother had yet to turn around and look at her. For that Rory was grateful, it meant she could stall a little longer. "Nowhere in particular."

Her tone must have triggered something on Lorelai's radar, because suddenly her mother turned around and took in her dishevelled appearance. Without a word the eldest Gilmore made her way towards the dining table. Once she was seated, Lorelai patted the chair next to her, indicating that her daughter should sit down next to her. Dragging her feet towards her assigned chair, Rory mauled over how to give her mother the news.

"So," her mother began in a hesitant tone. "Why the sad face?"

She should answer... However, Rory couldn't seem to find the courage to speak up. And so she remained silent.

"Wow, I haven't seen you this sullen since you lost your copy of _Oliver Twist_ when you were six," Lorelai attempted to tease.

Still, Rory remained silent.

"Look, honey I know you haven't exactly been sunshine and daisies the past few weeks, but, if you want me to help you're going to have to tell me what's wrong," her mother tried to cajole.

"I don't know how," Rory whispered.

Lorelai tensed, her brow furrowing. "Okay, then. I guess were playing twenty questions," she said, hoping to lighten her daughter's spirits.

Rory didn't answer; she only stared at her mother.

Lorelai, having a mind of her own took this as a sign to proceed. "Okay, let's see question number one. Does this have anything to do with what happened before you left for Europe?"

"Yes," Rory whispered.

Lorelai took the fact that her daughter had begun to respond as a good sign. "Does this maybe have anything to do with Dean?"

"Yes," Rory confirmed, her gaze steadily locked on the floor.

Lorelai paused, a slight sense of trepidation coming upon her. "Does this have anything to do with that letter you had me give him two weeks ago."

Rory shook her head no.

Her mother swallowed, her frown deepening. "Do you still love Dean?"

"Yes, but that has nothing to do with what's wrong right now," her mother gave her the all-knowing eyes and Rory conceded. "Okay, maybe a little. But, that's not the real problem right now."

"Then sweetie, what is this about? I'm starting to run out of questions and I still have no clue as to what is actually going on with you. Give me a hint will you?" Lorelai asked, cutting to the chase, nervous of Rory's behaviour.

Rory looked into the loving eyes of her mother and couldn't help but wonder if this would be the last time she ever saw them. She sure as hell knew that her mother would probably never look at her the same way ever again. Rory knew she couldn't do so either. Grasping at whatever courage she possessed Rory reached into the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulled out one of the objects she had hidden there. Slowly she laid it out in front of her mother, making sure that the plus sign was clearly visible. She waited nervously for her mother to realize what this all meant.

Lorelai didn't disappoint, within seconds her eyes were widened, and her mouth dropped open in a silent oh. She reached for the slim positive pregnancy test with disbelief, and examined it closely before looking at her daughter sitting next to her. Rory didn't react, nor did she do anything. Her eyes still stared determinedly at the floor of their small kitchen.

Hesitantly, Lorelai spoke up. "Are you sure this is accurate... Because, you know, sometimes these things are wrong..."

Rory's hand reached into her sweatshirt once more. She placed all three items in front of her mother's gaze. All three were pregnancy tests, none of them were of the same brand, nor did they look similar. All three, however, were without a doubt positive.

Lorelai looked at her daughter. "Oh, Rory..."

* * *

 **Edited May 15 2017**


	3. Mothers & Daughters

**Author's Note:** Okay, so here we are. If any of you bothered to read my previous AN, you already know that chapters two and three are formed from previously posted content. For those of you who didn't bother reading my previous AN, and are wondering what is going on, you will find a copy of the AN in question bellow. Everyone else, feel free to skip ahead to chapter 4.

* * *

While reviewing the 2010 copy of WS, I realised that the copy was even worse off than I had initially thought. It seems that I was in the middle of a major edit when it was saved to the external hard drive – and absolutely nothing was where it ought to have been. Scenes were out of order, chapters were mislabelled, and everything was patched together haphazardly. Honestly, I felt like I had found Frankenstein's monster hidden away on my old external hard drive.

After quite some time (and quite a bit of swearing and hair pulling) I managed to figure things out and get (mostly) everything back where it ought to be. However, there still remains quite a bit of rewriting and editing to be done. Given all of these setbacks, I have decided to drastically cut down on the length of my updates. Previously, I had focused on posting lengthy chapters that were no less than 8,000 words in length. Now, I will be focusing mainly on editing small pieces of WS at a time, and posting them when I find a natural pause. As such, these new chapters will vary in length, but will not exceed 5,000 words in length.

It is my hope that this will not only allow for much more frequent updates, but will allow me the time necessary to edit and rewrite WS properly.

And now we reach the main goal of this AN. As a result of the drastic change in the length of my updates, I have decided it would be best if I were to repost my previous content in smaller chapters. This will not affect the content itself – it will only mean that all chapters prior to chapter 4 will be old content. I will be effecting the changes on May 15th, as well as posting a brand new chapter.

Thank you all for your understanding and patience.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Mothers & Daughters**

* * *

 **Friday September 10th 2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 4:47 a.m.**

Rory was pregnant.

No matter how often Lorelai repeated that sentence to herself, the reality of the situation just didn't seem to compute. Lorelai could honestly say that she had found it easier to cope with her own pregnancy at sixteen years of age than to understand the fact that her daughter was pregnant at nineteen. It was Rory – _Rory_ , barely has she ever made a mistake, valedictorian, Yale student _Rory_. The mother just couldn't wrap her head around it. It just didn't make sense to her. She felt like her world had been turned upside down – as if overnight the world had somehow been conquered by a group of Machiavellian oompa loompas…

Up was down. Down was up. And round and round everything went, cursing her with the worse bout of motion sickness ever put upon her.

Lorelai was bewildered.

Deer in the headlights bewildered.

Struck and limping, scrambling about in an attempt to find a safe haven bewildered.

Her thoughts rushed on ahead of her, as they always did. Except for once, she couldn't seem to keep up with them. She was unable to untangle them – to understand what they meant. Again and again, they spun round and round.

 _Rory? What? Pregnant? Dragonfly? Dean? Broken kitchen faucet at the Inn. Huh? Baby? No? Plumber or Luke? Luke or Plumber? Grandbaby? How?_

Realistically Lorelai had known that Rory would make a few mistakes along the way. But she had never once believed that her daughter would make the same mistake she had so many years ago. It might have crossed her mind that awful morning years ago when she woke up to a sore back and Emily Gilmore screeching in her ear. But Lorelai had never believed it, even as she chewed Rory out at the bit for falling asleep with a boy in Ms. Patty's dance studio.

Lorelai was torn…

And angry.

 _ **Oh, so, very angry**_ **.**

She had felt it rushing through her veins the same way she had that night she had found Rory and Dean in bed together. Screaming, begging and ripping through her, wanting to be let out.

 _How could Rory get herself in this situation?_

 _What was her daughter going to do now?_

 _And what was she, Lorelai Gilmore going to do now?_

Despite all of this, Lorelai had contained her anger, her fury over the situation that her daughter now found herself in. She had locked it all away as best she could. Even as fire rushed through her veins, Lorelai realised that expressing her anger in that moment in time wouldn't have done any good. All her anger would accomplish then was to alienate her daughter, and Lorelai was many things, but she was not her _mother._

So Lorelai had swallowed down her reprimands, bit her tongue and held her sobbing daughter. She had tried, and for the most part succeeded in ignoring the stinging in her eyes.

 _Oh, how desperately she wanted to scream, to sob, to do anything that would alleviate the crushing swell of emotion eating away at her from the inside._

But most of all, she had wanted to be able to do anything other than to simply just sit there and watch as her daughter broke down in front of her very eyes.

 _It hurt._

Seeing her daughter in that state _hurt her_.

Whilst clinging to her sobbing daughter, the acrid emotion that had been boiling in Lorelai's veins focused itself onto one very appealing target.

 _Dean._

It had been Rory's first time, and although Lorelai could fault her daughter for her choice of partner, she understood all too well that Rory hadn't been thinking with her head that night. Hormones, and the sway of first love lost had influenced her daughter into making the horrendous decision of giving away her virginity to a married man.

Lorelai could understand.

Although she had never crossed that particular line, she had found herself falling back in bed with Christopher often enough throughout the years. He was the only man she kept going back to, despite their disastrous history. Lorelai suspected Rory now found herself in a similar pattern with Dean. The difference remained, however, that Christopher had never been married – which made Rory's situation all the more precarious, and infuriated Lorelai all the more. Although Lorelai did forgive Rory for sleeping with Dean, she couldn't bring herself to forgive Dean.

Lorelai readily admitted that she was being biased. _Funnily enough_ , she didn't give a damn!

Hours after Lorelai had succeeded in putting Rory down to bed for the night, one urge remained omnipresent. As she fiddled with the coffee maker, Lorelai wondered where she could find an axe this early in the morning. Normally she would simply ask Luke for one, but she was fairly certain that he kept his axes sharp – and that simply wouldn't do. She needed one that was dull – Lorelai needed the dullest axe she could find if she wanted to stretch the whole thing out properly – and she really wanted to stretch it out. She didn't want the whole thing to be quick and painless after all. As the coffee maker beeped, Lorelai was abruptly pulled from her fantasy, and reality set back in. Although, killing the father of her grandchild seemed like the thing to do at the moment, she doubted the authorities would agree with her assessment.

Lorelai scowled.

 _Still, the idea held a certain appeal..._

She groaned and turned her gaze heavenward for a moment, before finally deciding to set the notion aside, and prepare herself a gigantic cup of java.

 _So…_

 _Decapitation was definitely off the table._

Lorelai attempted to steer her mind towards more practical thoughts. The endeavour itself was mostly successful – save for the fleeting notion of neutering Dean.

After all, there would be no chance of a repeat offence if Dean no longer had the equipment necessary to commit said offence…

It took Lorelai another couple of hours before she made any real progress. But by the time she had showered and dressed Lorelai had settled on how to proceed. She had always told herself, that if her daughter ever found herself pregnant as a teenager, Lorelai would handle it differently than her own parents had. As such, she would endeavour to be supportive and allow Rory to come to terms with her situation in her own time and on her own terms. Lorelai would tackle the present situation as she had tackled any other situation Rory faced – with the love and care of a mother – but with the understanding and support of a best friend. The last thing she wanted was for Rory's pregnancy to act as a barrier between them, such as had been the case with Lorelai and her own mother.

It comforted Lorelai to think, that although Rory's predicament certainly wasn't a desirable one, it remained a tad more promising than her own had been. After all, Rory was nineteen. She had graduated high school. And she was currently attending Yale. Rory was, all in all, much better off than Lorelai herself had been.

Lorelai shuddered to think how her parents would react to the news that their granddaughter was pregnant, but decided not to focus on that at the moment. What was important right now was to give Rory some time to adjust. She could help her figure out some of the more pressing details later. Today she was going to wake her daughter up at an ungodly hour and take her out and far, far away from Stars Hollow.

Lorelai knew that ignoring the situation would do nothing to solve it. She even willingly conceded that sometimes running away only served to worsen certain problems. However, Lorelai found herself hard pressed to see how the situation could possibly get any worse than it already was.

Ignoring it for a few days might just give them both the time they needed to process it all.

* * *

 **Tuesday September 14th 2004, Stars Hollow (Dean & Lindsay's Apartment) 8:35 p.m.**

Lindsay scowled as she shoved the dirty dishes into the sink. She didn't understand why she had to be the one to wash the dishes. Her daddy was out of town due to business for the next two days, and as per tradition, she and her mother had spent the day at the spa for some much needed pampering.

Doing the dishes would _ruin_ her manicure.

Lindsay had thought that once Dean came home from his double shift at the construction site, he would be in the mood for a little one on one time alone in the bedroom. Lindsay had primped and prepped the entire day for it. Instead, he had come home, looked around the apartment and scowled.

Lindsay viciously toweled the plate dry. Dean had been angry with her because the house was in such a mess. He'd looked at her, glaring. Lindsay shoved the plate in a cupboard. She didn't know why he was so cross with her.

In a petulant tone, Lindsay repeated Dean's earlier words verbatim. " _Why is the apartment such a mess Lindsay? I cleaned it before I left for work Lindsay. You clean up your own mess Lindsay. I'm going to take a shower Lindsay_. Blah, blah, blah," she sneered.

As she was about to throw some utensils into a drawer, she was distracted by the sound of Dean's cell blasting out some awful song she couldn't stand. She looked towards it for a moment, before her gaze traveled to the bathroom door. Dean didn't seem to react to the sound his cell was making. Lindsay's face scrunched up for a moment, her head tilting to the left a bit as she made out the sound of the shower running in the background. Lindsay looked back at the cellphone, contemplating. Finally, she opted to dry her hands, and picked up the cell. By that time the cell had grown quiet and she quickly noticed that Mr. Doose had been the one to call – no doubt wanting to offer Dean another shift. Lindsay looked back towards the bathroom door, and making sure that Dean was still in the shower, she began to look through his caller history and text messages.

* * *

 **Tuesday September 14th 2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 8:51 p.m.**

Clara looked up at the sound of the doorbell going off. Quickly she sprang off the couch, sending the book she was reading to fall haphazardly onto the floor.

"I'll get it!" Clara exclaimed as she eagerly advanced toward the door, arms fully extended at her sides, very much in a defensive maneuver to ward off her parents from answering the door before her.

Clara's eagerness to answer the door was not, as one might assume, an indication that she had been anticipating the arrival of a friend at this time, but rather it was the result of something much more nefarious in her mind.

 _Homework._

As in – _she was attempting to avoid it._

The situation might not have been quite so dire if Mr. Turner, her American Literature teacher, had not chosen to assign Sylvia Plath's _The Bell Jar_ the first week back from summer break.

Then again, Clara probably would have avoided completing this particular assignment even if Mr. Turner had assigned it later on in the term. She found the book to be more than a little bit disturbing, and to be quite honest, it creeped the hell out of her – and she wasn't even half of the way into it yet.

 _Anything_ was better than reading _that._

 _Even chores._

Glad for the excuse to do away with Plath for the time being, Clara all but ran to the front door. In her determination to beat her parents to the task, she ended up misjudging the distance between herself and the door. She attempted to come to an abrupt stop in a bid to avoid disaster, however the hardwood floors and her pink fuzzy socks decided otherwise. Clara ended up gliding the rest of the way to the door before slamming into the oak panel, narrowly avoiding being jabbed in the hip by the doorknob.

In that moment Clara noticed her mother standing several feet to her left, the expression on her face utterly dumbfounded as she stared at her daughter as if she were the most perplexing creature to ever walk the earth.

Eyes widening, Clara emitted a small, nervous little laugh, awkwardly raising her right hand (which had been wedged between herself and the oak door) to wave at her mother.

"Hi," Clara squeaked out, her mouth forming a smile that was too wide and too congenial to do anything but disturb her mother all the more.

The sound of the doorbell going off once more served to remind Clara of the task at hand and she scrambled to get hold of the doorknob. It took a bit of fumbling around to unlatch the lock, before finally opening the front door.

The odd, disturbing smile Clara had been sporting dropped as soon as she found her older brother on the other side of the door. By his expression alone Clara could already tell that blow-up Barbie had once again picked a fight with Dean, and her brother had been banished from his apartment – again.

And although Clara was very much aware that to think so was to be quite uncharitable, the thought crossed her mind none the less.

 _From one horror to the next._

* * *

 **Tuesday September 14th 2004, Stars Hollow (Dean & Lindsay's Apartment) 8:56 p.m.**

Lindsay stomped around the apartment, purposely knocking over some of Dean's more fragile possessions as she gathered an overnight bag.

 _Oh, she couldn't believe him_.

She had told him, point-blank, to stop talking to Rory Gilmore – and now she found out that he had gone behind her back and did the opposite of what she had told him to do.

 _She loathed that Gilmore bitch!_

The way the bitch talked about Dean as if she had any say in what he was doing with his life – as if she had any right to insert herself in _their_ lives. If it hadn't been for the dirty little cunt, Lindsay might have actually had her town house by now.

Lindsay knew the little bitch had had something to do with Dean's decision to return to school this semester. She must have! It made no sense otherwise. They had discussed things through and they had both agreed last March that it would be best if Dean dropped out. School cost quite a bit of money and although Dean made more than enough to pay for his tuition and their living expenses working two jobs and all the overtime he could manage to get, they had agreed that the money would be better spent buying the townhouse _she_ wanted.

Yet a month later Dean had turned around on her and told her he would remain in college – albeit with a reduced course load – and as such a reduced tuition. She'd heard the little bitch complaining about her – about how she was forcing Dean to work to buy her a townhouse while she twiddled her thumbs. Lindsay would be willing to bet that Dean's sudden renewed interest in attending college had everything to do with that bitch.

And now to find out that he was _still_ talking to her!

Urgh, he had made her so mad that she had thrown one of the dishes he had _ordered_ her to clean back into the sink, breaking everything in it except for one lone pot.

And when she had confronted him about his deceit – _he had the audacity to be angry at her for looking through his cellphone._

The nerve!

And then he says – _You don't have the right to tell me who I can and can't talk to Lindsay._

She'd tried to slap him for that one, but he caught her hand before the hit could land. However, she was proud to say that she had managed to scratch the jerk a bit.

 _That had made her feel better._

Lindsay looked around her at the mess she had created and smiled in satisfaction. Dean wanted to be a jerk. Fine. She would make him regret it soon enough. For now, however, she would go to her parent's for the night. And she was _not, under any circumstance,_ going to clean up the mess that the apartment was at the moment.

Dean wanted to be inconsiderate – well, than, so would she.

Besides, why should she be the one to clean up? He was the one who had done wrong – Dean was the one who hadn't listened – _who had gone ahead and kept talking to that Gilmore bitch when she had specifically told him not to._ Lindsay might have been the one to create the mess in the first place, taking out her anger with Dean on his possessions. But _he_ was the reason why she had felt the need to break a few things. No, it was clear in Lindsay's mind that the mess that currently littered the apartment was all Dean's fault. It seemed only right, only _just_ that Dean would be the one to clean it up, especially as he had had the audacity to order her to do the dishes as if she was a lowly housemaid before she had discovered his latest screw-up.

Dean needed to learn that she was his wife – not his _housemaid._

She had better things to do than to spend her time _cleaning_.

Her _dear_ husband would just have to realise that if he didn't want to clean up the apartment himself, he would simply have to hire someone else to do it for them. In fact, Lindsay would demand that he do so – she certainly had the leverage to force him to now. Once Dean had been properly cowed, she would submit a new list of demands before agreeing to return to the apartment, and a housemaid would certainly make the list.

Hmm…

Maybe she would make him take her to one of those fancy restaurants in Hartford…

Lindsay shook her head. Now was not the time to think about such things. Now she needed to go to her mother's. Lindsay was certain that her mother would know how to go about curbing Dean's recent bout of rebellion.

Lindsay had grown tired of the idiot stepping out of line.

Dean _needed_ to understand that if she told him to do something, he _had_ to do it.

* * *

 **Tuesday September 14th 2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 9:02 p.m.**

Clara screeched to all and sundry! She stomped throughout the house, calling Lindsay all sorts of unflattering names as she rummaged for the first aid kit.

Although why his sister seemed to think she would find the first aid kit in the cupboard holding the pots and pans was beyond his ability to figure out at the moment.

It wasn't like he actually needed the first aid kit to begin with – _it was just a little scratch after all_. Despite having done worse herself, Clara seemed to take great offence in the fact that Lindsay had dared to scratch him in her anger. The little blonde had been spitting mad when she noticed the scratch under his right eye. But that was nothing compared to the look Clara got in her eyes when he told her that Lindsay had riffled through his cellphone and discovered that he had kept in contact with Rory for some time after she had ordered him to break off all contact with his ex.

 _That_ had sent Clara on her current tangent.

As he watched his sister running up the stairs to go look for the first aid kit on the second floor, Dean couldn't help but think how lucky he was that no reference of his night with Rory could be found on his cellphone.

Most husbands would be grateful that their wives didn't catch them out cheating for the sake of their marriages. Dean, however, was only grateful because it meant Rory had been spared any further pain on his part. Having been married to Lindsay for a year now, he now knew all too well that Lindsay would go to any lengths to punish him for any perceived slight, legitimate or not – and he was convinced that Rory would find herself on the unpleasant end of such treatment if Lindsay was ever to learn of their night together.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to drown out the world. He tried to ignore the crushing, suffocating feeling in his chest when he thought of how his life was turning out. He tried to block out everything – so much so that he never noticed that for once, as his little sister was cussing up a storm and calling Lindsay every bad name she knew, his parents never once reprimanded Clara for insulting their daughter-in-law.

* * *

 **Tuesday September 14** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 9:07 p.m.**

Bella Forester didn't know what to do anymore – and she could tell by her husband's silence that he didn't know quite what to do anymore as well. For nearly a year now, they had both been advising their son to have patience – to understand – that everything would be better soon if he could simply get through this one rough patch. But that one small rough patch had become several – and several had become one large and unyielding rough patch. So now, nearly a year later, she stood in the middle of her living room watching her son wither away before her very eyes.

Over the past year Bella had grown weary of all the commotion in Dean's life – and of the pain it caused her son. He was discontent with his life – with his wife – and she couldn't help but worry that maybe she had encouraged her son to marry much too soon.

At the time the marriage had seemed like such a good idea. She and her own husband had been married at that age, and they had assumed that the two young lovebirds would be just as successful in marriage as they had. But now, it was more and more looking like that would not be the case.

He tried oh so very hard – but Bella could tell that Dean wasn't happy – and that he hadn't been happy for a very long time. She, like her husband, had thought that things would get better. But they never did. There was always some other problem cropping up – something which caused strife in her son's marriage – and this time she found herself torn.

On one hand she could understand all too well why Lindsay might feel uncomfortable with the idea of Dean being on friendly terms with his ex-girlfriend. But on the second hand, Bella was angry at Lindsay's demand that her son cease all contact with Rory. Lindsay's belief that she could simply command her son in such a manner left Bella extremely unsettled because it indicated that her daughter-in-law felt that she had a right to _dictate_ what Dean could and couldn't do and who he could and couldn't speak to. This suggested that Lindsay did not view Dean as a partner and an equal, but rather as an inferior she could direct at will.

Lindsay's need to find fault in every little thing that Dean did or didn't do simply seemed to support the conclusion that Bella was just now coming to terms with. And as she looked at her husband beside her, she could tell that he was drawing much the same conclusions as she had – that in their enthusiasm to see their son happily settled they might have encouraged their son into a marriage – to a wife – that did not suit him, that was _unhealthy_ for him.

* * *

 **Tuesday September 14** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lister Residence) 9:24 p.m.**

 _That little whore!_

 _How dare she?_

Then again, Shannon Lister wondered why she should expect anything less from that horrid Gilmore girl. The girl's mother, Lorelai, was a well-known harlot in Shannon's astute opinion. How could anyone say otherwise? Why, baring a bastard at sixteen, throwing herself at numerous men, seducing her own daughter's teacher? Shannon let out a disgusted snort. Why, she would even be willing to bet all her wealth that that slut had earned her daughter's valedictorian position on her knees.

And now the little bastard was attending one of the country's most prestigious colleges!

 _How utterly disgraceful!_

 _The sheer nerve of those little upstarts!_

Why, if Lindsay had been so inclined, she would have easily gotten into any Ivy League college of her choice. And unlike that nasty little Gilmore girl, her _perfect_ little girl would have done it on merit alone!

 _And that step-son of hers!_

 _Oh, the audacity!_

 _The sheer cruelty!_

 _How dare he?_

 _How dare he disobey her daughter and continue on socializing with the little whore? Especially when he knew well enough that his wife was uncomfortable with him interacting with such as low and base girl!_

 _How dare he?_

Urgh, it was enough to make her ill. Michel had known something like this would happen. Oh, yes he had – and Shannon had agreed with him. They had tried to convince their daughter that the boy was beneath her. It had been awful enough that Lindsay had agreed to go out with the boy – but to _marry_ him?

 _Oh, of all the indignities!_

 _Such an awful match!_

 _Her daughter, the most eligible girl in the county, married off to a lowly work hand!_

But Lindsay would not be dissuaded. She refused to see sense. She wanted to marry the Forester boy, and what Lindsay wanted, she and her husband gave her. So, putting aside their reservations, they had taken measures to befriend the rest of the Forester family. Naturally they found the parents were more than lacking, and the daughter was an absolute horror – but they made due for Lindsay's sake.

They had sacrificed so much…

And now the boy openly chose to defy her daughter and continue socializing with that damnable Gilmore!

 _Shannon wouldn't stand for it!_

Dean was undoubtedly foolish enough to believe that his little interactions with the Gilmore bastard would remain within the bounds of propriety – but Shannon could see. Now that the boy was married the little harlot was panting after him, wanting to steal him away from Lindsay. Although Shannon very much doubted that the girl's desires would come to fruition – _after all, Dean had married Lindsay, so how could the little harlot ever hope to compare?_ Rory Gilmore could scheme all she wanted, but there was no way whatsoever that her son-in-law would be swayed when he had _her_ daughter as a wife. The sheer notion of it, _her daughter_ , a woman of intelligence, poise and grace to be made a cuckquean by a bastard?

 _Never._

Still, _the gall of it all!_

This would not be borne. This _issue_ had to be dealt with – and quickly. She and Lindsay would make it clear to Dean that his socializing with such a woman was not acceptable on his part. And then, they would make it clear to the little harlot that her sentiments – if one could call them that – were unreciprocated. The little bastard would be told, quite plainly, that further contact with Lindsay's husband was forbidden.

Rory Gilmore would be made to understand that her attempts to lure Dean away from Lindsay were laughable at best, and advised to find another focus for her lurid little desires.

* * *

 **Edited May 15 2017**


	4. Counterfeit

**Author's Note:** For anyone that has failed to read my previous AN, please note that the following is not a new chapter. The editing work on the 2010 copy of WS was even more extensive then I had anticipated. As such I have chosen to shorten my chapters, and I have reformatted my content accordingly. For those of you that are not new to the story, you may skip ahead to Chapter 4 for new content.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Counterfeit**

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15th 2004, Stars Hollow, (Gilmore Residence) 10:12 a.m.**

Rory allowed herself to fall back onto her bed with a happy little sigh.

She was home…

Rory burrowed deeper into her bed. With everything that had happened this year she had hardly spent any time in Stars Hollow. She missed it. Still she wouldn't trade the little impromptu trip she and her mother had taken for anything else in the world at the moment. It had felt good to just spend some time alone with her mother, and getting out of Stars Hollow, despite just having recently returned, did her some good. It helped get her mind off of her current problem, which was very good.

When Rory had learned that she was pregnant, she just couldn't process it. Her thoughts kept scurrying away every which way which just made it impossible for her think. Rory was just so worried about everything – the baby, school, Dean, her mother, her grandparents – she was even worried about how the town would take the news. Through all of this she just couldn't catch her breath. But then she had told her mother, and things had gotten a little better.

When she woke up the following morning she had fully expected to receive a lecture – one of the _how did this happen_ and _how could you have let this happen_ variety. Everything was such a mess – she was pregnant and the father of her baby was Dean. Married Dean.

 _How could she so epically screw up?_

But her mother had surprised her when, rather than lecture her the next day, she burst through her bedroom before the crack of dawn, rambling on about how she needed to get showered and dressed, and that they were leaving in fifteen, and to not forget to pack clean underwear.

It had taken Rory a couple of minutes to realise that her mother was planning to take them on a surprise trip. And even then her addled brain only caught on when her mother just started shoving random pieces of her clothes into her small travel bag.

Rory had decided to just go with it – though at the time she had worried that she had caused her mom to have a mental breakdown.

For the first couple of hours into their road trip, the topic of her pregnancy had not been broached. Instead her mom had just kept rambling on about any inconsequential little thing she could think of, and Rory hadn't been quite sure what to make of it, other than her theory of her mother suffering a mental breakdown gaining more weight by the minute. It was as her mom was ranting about the evils of reggae music that they made the first pit stop on their trip – a hospital just outside of New York City.

When Rory had asked why they were stopping at the hospital her mom had simply just said – _"Just to confirm."_

And confirm they had. A nurse had drawn some blood, the test came out positive, and then a doctor had given her some pre-natal vitamins. They hadn't done a sonogram or anything like that, but when the doctor had asked and Rory told her that the baby was conceived around June 19th, the doctor had insisted that they immediately make an appointment with and OB-GYN. They were able to find a referral in Hartford, but all they could get was a tentative appointment for October 6th. The emergency doctor hadn't really been happy with the situation, but their own OB-GYN department was small and currently swamped full with other patients, and they would not be able to squeeze her in despite wanting to.

Rory was kind of glad they hadn't been able to see her. She hadn't felt quite ready to consult an OB-GYN yet, as she felt at the time to do so would make her situation all too real. She had needed a bit more time to process. Before they had left the doctor told her that he had made sure that if the OB-GYN had a cancellation, that she would be the first one to be called.

Confused Rory had asked why the doctor was so anxious to have her seen by an OB-GYN. It was quite stupid really. She had done the math, and had a working knowledge of biology, so Rory couldn't feasible excuse her shock as the result of ignorance. Yet being told that she had already begun her second trimester had stunned her. It had made her situation all the more real. And for several moments she had found it quite difficult to breathe. All she could think of was her time was running out – and she had nothing done to prepare herself.

No lists.

No plans.

Not even a sense of how she would deal with the situation nor how it would affect her future.

Rory would forever be thankful that she hadn't passed out in the middle of the hospital that day.

After her mother had managed to calm her down, the duo had left the hospital somewhat dazed and anxious. Her mother, thankfully, had understood that despite the growing panic she felt at her situation, Rory still was not quite ready to face facts. As such they had spent the remainder of their trip studiously avoiding the large pink, polka-dot elephant in the room. And although Rory hadn't been able to think of anything else during the rest of the drive, her mom had eventually managed to distract her from her worries. After entering Maine they'd driven around from town to town, visiting the attractions, mocking some unfortunately named towns and just did whatever it was they generally wanted to do in that moment.

The only time the subject of her pregnancy was even hinted at was when they had ended up having to go and a couple of sweats pants a few hours into their trip. Rory had been so startled with her mother's decision for an impromptu trip that she had simply put on the jeans her mother had thrown at her head without a second thought. Likewise she hadn't given much notice to the clothes her mother had hastily thrown into a bag as she dressed. As such she didn't realise until it was too late that the jeans her mother had handed her to wear that had started to become uncomfortably snug in the middle of August – along with the better part of wardrobe. This had not been much of a problem during her European trip, as she had packed several bags worth of clothes, and simply had to resort to favoring looser cut pants, skirts and dresses. However, upon examination of the contents of her back-pack, Rory quickly realised that her mother had only packed fitted jeans for their excursions.

But then September had arrived and her waistline had lost its softness and had thickened slightly. Rory could still wear the jeans in question, and she hadn't really gone up a pants size or anything of the like. None of the slight changes in her body were physically noticeable, whether she wore loose or fitted clothes. But she now found that fitted jeans, such as the ones her mother packed, were more than a little uncomfortable for her for her. The hard, pinching feel of the metal button digging into her tummy and the constricting feel of the fabric forcing her hardened stomach inwards made her completely miserable. It felt a lot like having someone sitting on her bloated stomach, and after several hours of trying to ignore the sensation, she was forced to give into the urge to tell her mother about her problem.

Given the circumstances, they hadn't really bothered to look for anything complicated, and had instead settled for a couple of everyday sweatpants. They had avoided going anywhere near the maternity section, and although neither had said anything aloud, it seemed agreed somehow that they would shop for those kinds of things later on.

All in all, their trip had been good. It had allowed her the chance to acclimate and she believed that with just a little more time she could come to terms with her situation. There was still a sense of urgency, of panic about it all, but she was determined to take as much time as she could allow herself to contemplate her next step. Rory was still very much freaked out over the enormity of it all – but at least now she felt that she could actually manage to think again – _to breathe again_.

Granted that breath was relatively short, but Rory felt relatively certain that the brief reprieve would allow her the time to figure out an appropriate plan of action.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15th 2004, Stars Hollow (Peach Street) 12:18 p.m.**

Shannon Lister and her daughter, Lindsay Forester, marched briskly up to the front door of the Forester residence. Shannon's husband and Lindsay's father, Michel Lister, was due to return from his business trip later that afternoon, and both women fully intended to nip this latest Dean situation in the bud before he returned.

With a determined expression on her face, Shannon Lister delivered a sharp knock to the door. Her daughter, standing beside her, projected an air of total desolation – and Shannon allowed herself a brief moment of pride.

 _Good._

Dean had defied her daughter and gone against her wishes. The best way to make him realise the error of his ways and to prevent any further rebellion was to make him believe that Lindsay had been hurt by his actions because he had completely disregarded her feelings in this matter. In truth, Lindsay was furious with the boy, as she rightfully should be, but this was not the time or place to display anger. If Lindsay were to show her anger now, the boy might be goaded into defying her once again. They wanted to avoid this at all cost, for the boy might soon convince himself that his continued disobedience was acceptable simply because he had gotten into the habit of being contradictory with his wife.

Later there would be time for anger, and Shannon was certain her daughter had already devised a number of suitable punishments. Now, however, was the time for her daughter to project an air of vulnerability.

 _Simple men such as Dean were so easily led by a few false tears._

She had taught her daughter well.

Shannon Lister was confident that all of this unpleasantness would all be over within a few minutes. She was quite certain that if her daughter's anguished features did not toe the boy back in line, than she could rely on Bella Forester to put her son-in-law back into place. From Lindsay's observations, Shannon knew that Dean's mother was often the one to convince the boy to return home and beg his wife forgiveness for his numerous blunders. From past experience with the woman in question Shannon herself knew that Bella Forester was delighted to see her son married off to such an extraordinary young woman as Lindsay. Shannon supposed that Bella was all too aware that her son was unworthy of a woman of Lindsay's calibre and Shannon concluded that the woman was eager to ensure that she did not lose such a worthy daughter-in-law. This suited Shannon just fine, as she herself was quite eager to avoid any hint of a scandal.

 _Yes, all of this nonsense would soon be laid to rest between the three of them._

Shannon, however, did not foresee Clara Forester answering the front door.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15th 2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 12:21 p.m.**

Clara hopped around the foyer, trying to shove her left foot into her sneaker whilst trying to get her right arm into her sweatshirt. She had just succeeded in getting her hand into the arm of the sweatshirt when the doorbell went off.

Clara froze in place, precariously unbalanced, her left leg folded up in the air, foot half-way into her black sneaker, left hand caught between said sneaker and her heel, her right arm raised next to her face, her right fist hidden from view by the arm of her sweatshirt hanging limply at her side, mouth open in surprise, and eyes widened slightly in dread.

Her mother had left at seven that morning for an appointment. Her father and brother both started work very early in the morning that day, and for once Clara had been left all by her lonesome before classes started.

Wednesdays were particularly brutal class wise. There was nothing more gruelling than double math class in the morning. Worst was the droning dolt that supposedly taught the class. The fact was that the man couldn't care less whether or not his students actually learned anything in his class didn't help any. In truth, everyone knew he delighted in confusing his students. His favored method of introducing new course material involved presenting his class with a mathematical problem they had no means or hope of understanding and then watching, amused, as his students all floundered about. Eventually one student or another would give in and suffer the indignity of asking Mr. Tate to explain the material – at which point Mr. Tate would do his level best to answer in such a fashion as it eluded any form of explanation. The man's only redeeming quality was that he never bothered to take roll call. And so Clara, eager to escape Mr. Tate latest exercise in futility, had taken full advantage of the situation…

 _She could not get caught._

 _If her mother found out she skipped her morning classes she would be grounded for the next week!_

So she stayed there.

Standing on one leg, trying not to do a face plant.

 _Such was life…_

"Bella?" The voice on the other side of the door queried. "Dean? Is anyone there? It's Shannon. I've come here with Lindsay in order to settle the… _squabble_ between Dean and Lindsay."

Surprised, Clara was unable to stop what happened next…

 _She face planted…_

…

 _And chaos descended._

Her left shoe went flying off in the fall and ultimately ended up throwing itself against the oak panelling of the front door.

At the sound of the loud thud made by Clara and the small thwack made by her shoe Shannon Lister queried once more, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

…

From her dishevelled position on the floor, Clara glared at the front door, willing grievous harm to befall the individuals currently standing on the other side. Scrambling to her feet, Clara almost face planted a second time, her misshapen sweatshirt seeming intent on felling her. Thankfully she managed to catch herself in time and was able to get back up on her feet.

To her great surprise, Clara managed to make it to the door without further incident.

Scowling, the teenager yanked the door open and glared at the two blondes standing in front of her. They seemed startled to see her, but soon enough their expressions turned to distaste and anger.

"Clara," Shannon greeted her.

The girl in question harrumphed and crossed her arms. She possessed a deep loathing for not only Lindsay, but the woman's parents as well. Clara simply did not understand how it was that she was the only person in her family that could see that the Listers were an uppity bunch of pricks that looked down on everyone else.

" _Listers_ ," the girl seethed, scowling at the blondes and flipping them the bird.

Shocked, the two women took a step back and gasped.

Clara smirked, and just as the two blondes seemed ready to charge forward and reprimand her for disrespecting them in such a manner, Clara slammed the door in their faces and locked it.

The teenager listened quite happily as the two crones screeched and banged against the door, demanding to be let in while vowing to smack her for her insolence.

Clara just snickered and made her way to the kitchen.

Her amusement was short lived as she tripped over the area rug.

"Damn it!" Clara cussed loudly.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Town Square) 12:33 p.m.**

They had just reached the town square when it happened.

They had been joking around, laughing as they always did.

Everything had been fine.

Or as fine as anything could have been given her current circumstances.

And Rory had been content.

She was home in Stars Hollow on her way to eat breakfast with her mom at Luke's. And although Rory could tell that her mom was mad at the situation she now found herself in, she was not taking out that anger on her. Rory was grateful that despite everything that had happened these past few months, her relationship with her mother seemed to be holding strong, though it was a little worse for wear. What's more her mother seemed to understand that she needed time to process things, to figure out what she wanted to do next. And although Rory could tell her mother seemed anxious for answers, she was willing to give her some time to think before broaching the subject.

All in all life had been as good as it could have been considering her current problem.

But then the illusion was shattered by the sound of a loud screech.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Town Square) 12:32 p.m.**

Shannon Lister seethed as she walked briskly down the street. Her daughter Lindsay, just as angry over their mistreatment, walked beside her.

 _How dare that little brat slam the door in their faces!_

 _How dare she?_

Oh, when Shannon got her hands on that _little bitch she would rue the day._

They had just reached the town square when someone caught Shannon's gaze. There, in the middle of the town were the Gilmore girls, laughing and strutting along. At the sight of their happy faces Shannon fumed.

 _That whore! How dare she frolic about without a care in the world after having caused so much trouble in my daughter's marriage?_

From the corner of her eyes Shannon noted that Lindsay appeared just as furious as she over the Gilmore's little exhibition. With a sharp stride Shannon crossed the town square and came up behind the Gilmores, hissing at the youngest, " _You!_ You awful girl!"

The two brunettes turned, startled, their eyes widening as they recognised Mrs. Lister.

Shannon was pleased to note that the mother appeared uneasy, while the youngest had paled considerably.

 _Good._

 _They were obviously smart enough to realize that they should fear her._

Focusing solely on Rory, Shannon screeched, "How dare you, you little tart? Have you no shame?"

The little whore cowered, and her mother stepped forward in a pitiful attempt to shield the little gremlin.

Scowling, Lorelai objected loudly, "Hey!"

Shannon didn't care for the mother; she had no interest in the woman. No, she was interested in the girl – in tearing her down and exposing her for the interfering little harlot she was. "How dare you? Meddling in the lives of others, purposely causing trouble in my daughter's marriage, announcing to all and sundry that you believe Lindsay did not have her husband's best interest at heart when she decided that the boy should focus on providing for her and their future together rather than waste his time and their money on some mediocre college degree? _How dare you? Are you so naïve as to believe that no one would realise what it was you hoped to achieve by inserting yourself into their lives you little whore?"_

Caught up in the moment Shannon didn't think twice before lunging forward, intent on slapping the filthy little cunt for her meddling little schemes. Her desire, however, was left unfulfilled as Lorelai Gilmore stepped between them and held her at bay from her prey. Not to be dissuaded Shannon pressed forward until Lorelai, with a ferocious scowl on her face, shoved her back and yelled, "Hey _lady! Back off!_ "

Shannon screeched in frustration and quit her attempts as Lindsay gently pulled her away from the two brunettes. A quick glance to her daughter and Shannon realized that Lindsay had played her part quite well. Throughout the confrontation her daughter had kept up her wounded appearance, complete with a few counterfeit tears. Pride swelled within Shannon's breast.

 _No one would question who the wounded party was in all of this._

Shannon's gaze narrowed, her attention returning once more to the little whore.

 _Oh how she wished she could have hit the little bitch just once._

Instead she decided to contend herself with a final parting shot. "Dean Forester is married to _my_ daughter, and how they choose to live their lives is none of your concern. He might have foolishly thought that maintaining a friendly relationship with you was acceptable, and my daughter was willing to accept such an ill-advised friendship for Dean's sake. However, your meddling has caused undue strife between the two – which you no doubt intended. Whatever outcome you had hoped to achieve, whatever little schemes you planned to pull off, I warn you right now you awful, despicable girl – _they are at an end_. Dean will be set to rights where your character is concerned, _girl_. _You are not to speak to my daughter's husband ever again! Do you understand you little wretch?"_

With that Shannon drew herself up. In her mind she projected elegance, poise and righteousness.

In reality she appeared the perfect portrait of a snooty housewife with delusions of grandeur. The image was truly brought home when she displayed her distaste with the Gilmore girls by turning up her nose at them.

Satisfied Shannon turned her back on the awful Gilmore girls and led Lindsay away from the scene. As they walked Shannon made a great production of soothing her seemingly distraught daughter.

* * *

 **Edited May 15 2017**


	5. A Banshee's Call

**Author's Note:** _New Content From Here On Out!_

P.S: I apologize for the big blocks of show transcripts. I'm afraid they play some part in the storyline, and thus they are necessary. You'll find quite a few of them over the next few chapters.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 4: A Banshee's Call**

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Town Square) 12:37 p.m.**

Rory felt sick to her stomach.

When Mrs. Lister had started screaming at her, Rory had been sure that Lindsay had somehow found out about her night with Dean. She had been struck dumb – she couldn't speak – couldn't even _think._ It wasn't until the woman's tirade had been all but over that Rory realised that she was _not_ being screamed at because she had had sex with Dean, but rather because Dean was, or at least had been, still talking to her after Lindsay had ordered him not to. What little relief she felt over the fact that her secret was still safe was stemmed by the fear of what would happen when the truth would eventually come out – when everyone would find out that she had gotten herself pregnant by a married man.

Seeing Lindsay so distraught had made Rory faint.

When Lindsay had first demanded that Dean cease all contact with her, Rory had been outraged. She had believed it to be not only unreasonable, but very controlling.

At the time, all Rory could think of Lindsay's behavior was that the blonde might have somehow displayed more tact if she had simply told Dean outright that she did not trust him. Because in the end, that had been what it all amounted to – Lindsay did not trust Dean despite the fact that she had married him. And Rory had resented her for all of it – for being so narrow minded and controlling – for forcing Dean to put her desires above his ambitions – for her obvious lack of trust.

And now, in light of recent developments, Rory couldn't help but resent her Lindsay – even hate her somewhat. All of this made Rory feel all the more bitter and pathetic, for her resentment of Lindsay was now founded on nothing more than jealousy. After all, Lindsay had never treated her wrongly. They had never been friends, but she had always been nice to Rory in the past. Lindsay's demand that Dean break all contact with Rory had actually been the only negative interaction the two had ever shared. At the time Rory had felt slighted and angry at the blonde for treating Dean in such a domineering way. Now, however, in hindsight Rory was forced to accept that Lindsay had had a good reason to worry over the state of her husband's friendship with his ex-girlfriend. And this, more than anything, made Rory resent the blonde all the more.

Yet, seeing how hurt Lindsay had been at learning that Dean had remained in contact with her had cut Rory to the quick. The idea that she had hurt another person, even one she felt such resentment towards, made her sick to her stomach.

Worst still was the realisation that no matter what she did now, eventually Rory would be forced to hurt Lindsay even more than she already had.

The very idea of it made her feel faint – yet there was no way of preventing it.

After all, if the blonde was so affected by the mere fact that Dean had kept in contact with her, Rory could only imagine how wounded Lindsay would be at learning her husband had cheated on her. Rory didn't even want to think about the kind of blow it would be to Lindsay's fragile heart once she learned that Dean had gotten the other woman pregnant as well.

All of their well-ordered lives would be devastated and altered forever.

Mrs. Lister shouting at her, calling her _that awful name_ , confirmed that much at least.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15th 2004, Stars Hollow (Town Square) 12:39 p.m.**

Lorelai watched as Lindsay and Mrs. Lister walked away from them.

She just couldn't understand how things had devolved so quickly. Everything had been fine – they had been laughing and on their way to Luke's. And suddenly she had an angry blonde screaming at her daughter and trying to hurt her.

It made Lorelai angry.

What kind of mother thinks it's just okay to try to slap another girl that is her own daughter's age?

Sure, Rory was nineteen years old, but still… Who does that?

Lorelai tightened her hold on Rory. She had planned on trying to get Rory to talk to her about how she wanted to handle this whole pregnancy situation, but seeing that her daughter could barely hold herself up at the moment, Lorelai decided that today of all days might not be such a good day to address such a life altering issue.

Lorelai sighed and looked around. She was at a lost as to what to do next, and it took her a few moments to notice the crowd awkwardly shuffling around them.

 _Great. They had an audience._

Lorelai supposed it shouldn't surprise her. With all the screeching that Mrs. Lister had done, it would be much more surprising if their confrontation hadn't caught the attention of some of the townspeople milling about at the time. Most of the witnesses seemed rather flummoxed over the whole thing, and appeared to be at a lost as to what to make of Mrs. Lister's little speech. They kept looking back and forth between them and the two blondes strutting away. Lorelai was relieved to note that most were frowning at Mrs. Lister's back and looking at Rory sympathetically. Although, Lorelai couldn't help but think that such sympathies would be fleeting once news eventually broke, and the whole town found out that Rory had gotten pregnant by Lindsay's husband.

Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of red caught Lorelai's attention. The woman all but groaned when she noticed Miss Patty standing a few feet to their left.

Seeing that she had been noticed, Miss Patty took that as an invitation to approach. The dance instructor frowned as she asked, "What in the world was that all about?"

Lorelai choked.

 _How in the nine circles of hell was she going to answer that?_

Feeling Rory burrow deeper into her side, Lorelai was too distracted to put much thought in her reply and simply fibbed, "I-I don't know."

Recognizing the lie for what it truly was, Miss Patty's frown deepened all the more. The woman seemed disturbed by Mrs. Lister's treatment of Rory, and appeared keen on getting to the bottom of the woman's wretched little speech.

Lorelai forced herself not to groan.

 _She didn't have time for this. She had a distraught daughter to take care of right now._

Miss Patty's eyes strayed to Rory's struck, pale, sickly face and seemed at a loss as to what to do for a moment. Finally, the woman seemed to decide that comforting the teary eyed young woman before her took precedence over any curiosity she might have as to why Mrs. Lister chose to focus her ire over her daughter's failing marriage on Rory.

"Oh, honey," Miss Patty placated. "You don't look too well…"

Patting Rory's cheek affectionately, she continued, "You shouldn't let it affect you so much sweetie, they're just looking for someone to blame over all the recent upset." Miss Patty paused for a moment, looking around for prying ears before huddling closer to the Gilmore girls.

In hushed tones the woman related the day's gossip.

"Apparently, Dean and Lindsay had another fight last night. According to Francine over on Peach Street, the poor boy spent the night at his parents – which is nothing new, of course. As you might have already heard, those two have been fighting quite a lot lately. Francine swears that since last February, Dean has been spending more nights at his parent's home than he has been spending in his apartment with his wife. She – Lindsay – kicks him out almost every time they fight, you know. At least that is what poor Suzie McClaire told her mother last May. She lives right next to them, did you know? Poor girl hears them fighting through the walls – it's so bad that apparently Suzie is thinking of moving to that small duplex over on Daisy Street…"

Lorelai frowned and Rory, still in shock, simply stared blankly at Miss Patty.

Realising that she had strayed from the topic at hand, Miss Patty chuckled good-naturedly, "Sorry dears… Any who, Mrs. McClaire told Mrs. Fray who told Mrs. Cassini that her daughter just simply couldn't bear living right next to that screeching harpy anymore –" Miss Patty cleared her throat and smiled at them congenially, " – her words, _not mine –_ apparently Lindsay has been keeping her poor daughter up most nights, picking fights with Dean over the smallest things, complaining over every little thing and blaming everyone but herself for their marital problems. Gossip has it that the two have been that way since they said their vows."

Miss Patty sighed and patted Rory on the cheek, "Oh honey, don't you see. You shouldn't let what Mrs. Lister said affect you so much. That woman is just frustrated over all the upset in her daughter's marriage, and like her daughter she thought it easier to blame someone else for their problems, rather than admit that Lindsay's behavior might be to blame. It certainly doesn't forgive Mrs. Lister's behavior towards you, or make those terrible things she called you acceptable, but that is the awful truth. So don't fret. I'm sure that Mrs. Lister will come to regret all the things she has said to you soon enough. As for the rest of the town, I expect that they will see that Mrs. Lister was the one in the wrong today. Anyone aware of recent gossip or with any sense will know better than to believe that you are to blame for the sorry state of Lindsay's marriage."

Miss Patty smiled reassuringly and chuckled, "Besides, if anyone can rightfully take any kind of credit for causing strife between Dean and Lindsay, it would Clara Forester. I don't think I will ever forget the stunt that girl pulled on her brother's wedding day – though I certainly wish I could forget that awful dress. The purple dye clashed horribly with the orange and peach dress – not that the dress wasn't awful enough on its own."

Noticing Lorelai's frown, Miss Patty just shook her head, before focusing once again on Rory's sorry state, "Lorelai, maybe you should take Rory to Luke's for something to eat. Some food might do her some good. Poor dear looks as pale as a sheet."

"Uh," Lorelai blinked. "Right. Yeah, we were actually on our way there… before."

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15th 2004, Stars Hollow (Luke's Dinner) 12:43 p.m.**

"Anything you want is on me. Pie, cake, pancakes, pan pie, cake pan, panacockin. Say the word or make one up. It's yours," her mother joked, no doubt trying to distract her from what had just happened.

 _It wasn't working._

The stress and shock of the morning was taking its toll on Rory, and all she really wanted at the moment was a chair. Everything was fuzzy and she was having trouble breathing and _if she didn't sit down right this minute she was going to pass out in the middle of the dinner._

Her mother, bless her kooky little soul, seemed to realise she was moments away from holding up a hundred and fifteen pounds of dead weight, and quickly ushered her to a chair at their usual table.

Plopping down in her seat, Rory all but draped herself over the table, "Chair feels good," she moaned out.

Her mother patted her back soothingly, ""Yeah, yeah. A chair does feel good."

Although the feeling of utter faintness didn't dissipate, it did Rory an immeasurable amount of good to be sitting down, half laid down on the table as she was. It gave her an odd measure of security, and the notion that she no longer risked causing a scene if she were to drop into a dead faint in the middle of the dinner somehow allowed her to breathe a little easier.

Rory closed her eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the rapid fire beat of her heart and the nausea that plagued her. The overwhelming faintness that beset her made it hard to not only breathe, but think. After several moments, her synapses were able to cut through the fog in her brain. She felt so weak – she needed something to help curb the feeling – something that would give her a jolt.

"Coffee," Rory moaned into the table, "I need coffee."

Lorelai jumped at the request, "Two coffees coming right up," she said cheerfully, trying to pretend that her daughter's world hadn't just threatened to crash down into a pile of fire and rubble for the second time in so many days.

"Hi," Luke suddenly appeared at Lorelai's side, making both Gilmore girls jump in surprise.

 _Is he trying to startle the puke right out of me?_

Luke smiled at the dumbstruck look on Lorelai's face, "It's on the house, so go crazy."

 _Then again, the man does have his virtues._

"Luke!" Lorelai exclaimed.

Rory raised an eyebrow at her mother's excitement. She had never seen the woman so happy to see Luke before… Well, there was one time when her mother was suffering from extreme caffeine withdrawal – but Rory always assumed that the hallucinations had played a big part in that.

"Hey," Luke said, a funny little look on his face.

 _Huh? What? Did I miss something? Cause if I didn't know any better, I'd think that Luke was looking pretty love-struck at the moment._

Luke, finally noticing Rory, turned to her, "Hi, Rory. Welcome back."

 _Thank you for remembering that I exist Luke. For a moment there, it looked like you had forgotten that anyone else was here – which is kind of weird since, you know, you never looked at my mom like that before. But, hey, who am I to judge?_

"Thanks," Rory said, just barely raising her head up from the table.

Luke frowned, "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

 _Yes Luke, I am just peachy keen. I'm only half passed out across one of your tables because I am just in a lazy kind of mood today. Thank you._

Her mother laughed off the question, "You know, pale's the new tan."

 _Why thank you Judas. Good to know this morning's episode just became material for one of your new bits…_

 _And wow, aren't I snarky today – must be the hormones and the near cataclysmic event._

Lorelai grinned and smacked Luke on the chest, almost as if to check that he was real. "So, you're here," she waved wildly, "You're not a mirage."

"I told you I was coming back," Luke retorted, sounding much too smug.

Lorelai crossed her arms in front of her, chuckling, "But you lied to me repeatedly for weeks, so your credibility's been shattered."

Luke groaned, "I know. It's been seven weeks."

"Seven weeks," Lorelai conceded, gloating.

 _Okay, we get it. Luke's been gone for seven weeks, can we maybe move on now?_

Luke fidgeted with his baseball cap for a moment, looking between her mother and the door before finally saying, "You know, I just remembered – I have an errand to run."

"Oh, yeah?" Lorelai's smile widened.

"I've got to go to the pharmacy," Luke said slowly.

 _Why do I get the feeling that he_ doesn't _actually need to go to the pharmacy?_

"I'm gonna go now," Luke said, his tone oddly pointed, before turning his attention back to Rory. "Lane's here. She'll bring you your coffee. Hey, Lane, I got to run down to the pharmacy! Got an errand."

"Okay!" Lane called out from behind the kitchen.

Turning back to her mother, Luke says, "So… I'll be back in a bit."

He stayed still for a moment, seemingly waiting for some kind of cue from Lorelai before nodding and rushing off. Her mother looked at Luke walking away, and Rory began to wonder if she had missed something major while she was gone. Rory had just managed to muster up the strength to sit up somewhat, and was about to ask her mother what was going on when she was interrupted.

"Rory!" Lane exclaimed happily, rushing towards her.

"Hey, you!" Rory said back, her voice projecting more enthusiasm than she was actually capable of feeling at the moment. Although she was really happy to see Lane, the long awaited reunion was marred by the memory of what had just happened this morning. Rory, however, was determined not to let Lane see that her excitement was lacking.

"You're back!" Lane squealed and hugged Rory. Turning back to Lorelai, Lane exclaimed, "Our girl's back!"

Lorelai smiled, "I know."

Barely having caught her breath, Lane jumped right back into the thick of things, "We need to consult."

Rory frowned. Lane seemed awfully solemn all of a sudden for a girl that was squealing not one second ago. Rory sat up at attention, "Oh, sounds serious."

Her friend sighed, "I'm in a quandary."

 _Thank you god! Glad to see I'm not the only one!_

Happy, Rory jumped at the chance of a distraction from her disastrous morning, "Other people's quandaries. I'm all ears."

Before Lane could start going into the details Lorelai interrupted them, "Hey, you know, I just remembered – I have to go to Doose's to – pick something up. You need a banana or anything?"

 _A banana? Really mom?_

Frowning, Rory replied,"I'm good."

Rory couldn't but think that her mother seemed much too happy with her answer.

Still, Lorelai asks, "Are you sure?"

Confused at her mother's antics, but unwilling to address the matter in front of Lane, Rory insisted, "Yeah, I'm consulting on a quandary. Go."

A heavy feeling settled into the pit of Rory's stomach as she watched her mother skip out the door, but she decided to ignore it for the time being.

Fidgeting nervously, Lane steers the conversation back on track, "So, my quandary – are you ready? And I need honesty."

Still frowning over her mother's odd behavior, Rory nodded her head at Lane to continue, "Shoot."

In retrospect, she should have figured it out when her mom and Luke started sharing those weird little smiles, but it wasn't until Lane asked, "Am I in love with Zach?" that she somehow made the connection.

 _Oh… That is what the banana was about… Well, at least mom finally figured out that she was dating Luke._

Startled, it took Rory a moment to get over the mind boggling epiphany, "What?" she asked Lane, not quite sure she really heard her best friend correctly.

Lane sighed, "I need to know if you think I'm in love with Zach, 'cause a dirty trollop suggested it, and they're generally reliable about these things."

Lost and dazed over the newest change in her life, Rory's nose scrunched up, seeking clarification, "A dirty trollop?"

"She said something to me and gave me this sort of knowing, worldly look that seemed to suggest I was acting in a way that said I have a thing for Zach, or she was hitting on me. I just need to know your thought on this," Lane gesticulated wildly.

It took Rory a moment to process Lane's question. Still, once Rory was certain she hasn't misunderstood anything, she wasn't quite sure how to respond to the question. Rory didn't think she should be giving her opinion on anything that had anything to do with relationships at the moment. For one, her mind was still overly foggy, and if the amount of time it took her to realise that her mom and Luke were dating was any indication, any advice she offered at the moment would most probably prove to be disastrous. Secondly, her own love life was a tragedy at the moment, and given the fact that she had recently lost her virginity to a married man, it was safe to say that her judgement was heavily impaired.

Rory did not want to risk giving Lane any kind of romantic advice at the moment – not when it was almost guaranteed to end badly – if Rory's own stroke of bad luck was anything to go by.

"Hey. Are you listening?" Lane asks Rory, a frown on her face.

 _Crap, what do I say now?_

Lane's features grew concerned as Rory remained silent, contemplating.

Rory hadn't planned on telling Lane yet. She'd wanted to wait until she had a clear idea of what she wanted to do next. But it has been days since she learned the news – weeks even, if she counted back from the time she had begun to suspect she might be pregnant – and still Rory was not much closer at figuring out that one big issue. So maybe she should tell Lane. It seemed like they had both fallen onto problems that would require a friendly ear and a certain amount of emotional unburdening.

Sighing, Rory settled on her decision, "Sorry, I'm not really listening at the moment. I'm trying to, I swear. But I have my own quandary at the moment, and something happened this morning that made me realise that I need to figure out what to do about it as soon as I can…"

Lane puts her hand on Rory's arm, worried, "What? What's going on? Does this –" Lane stops herself, looks at Rory with wide eyes before huddling closer to her and whispering, "Does this have anything to do with – _him?_ "

Rory cringed. She wasn't sure if she should be glad that Lane caught herself in time before saying Dean's name, or if she should be annoyed that Lane might have just brought more attention to their conversation with her antics. Rory looked around the dinner suspiciously, assuring herself that no one had noticed anything amiss with their behavior. Satisfied that no one had, Rory turned back to Lane and sighed. After a moment of indecisiveness, Rory finally bit the bullet and asked, "Could we maybe talk later? Somewhere not so public?"

"Sure, my shift finishes at two. We could go to my apartment after? The boys will be there because we have band practice at a quarter past, but I don't see why we can't talk alone in my bedroom while the guys set up. Does that sound good?" Lane asked.

* * *

 **Edited May 15 2017**


	6. Down With Hope

**Author's Note:** I bet you're all surprised that I managed another update so soon. I know that updates have been few and far in between. But I am hoping that, now that the major issues have been dealt with, I will be able to update once every week or two. No promises as of yet, but that is my goal at the moment.

Be sure to review, I like reading what you guys think of the story and the changes it has undergone.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Down With Hope**

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Wickery Bridge) 1:21 p.m.**

Dean took a deep breath of fresh air as he climbed out of his truck. His gaze drifted towards the clear blue sky and he couldn't help but note what a beautiful day it was. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping away happily and the air was heavily scented with blooming flowers.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at the joke of it all.

His marriage was in shambles, his personal life a growing nightmare – so naturally the sky just had to be blue and the sun bright.

Dean walked up to his truck's tailgate and yanked it open. With a scowl on his face, Dean jumped up onto the truck bed and set about untying the ropes he had used to secure a stack of two by fours.

If nothing else, he could at least be content in the fact that his career in construction was turning out pretty well. Tom Maginty, the contractor for the Dragonfly, had been impressed by his work at the inn, and decided to hire him onto his crew provisionally. Tom wanted to see how well Dean handled different types of construction work before taking him on a more permanent basis. So far everything appeared to be going quite well and Tom didn't seem to have any complaints with his work. Dean had made a couple of mistakes since he had been hired on, but those were everyday rookie mistakes and Tom didn't seem bothered by them.

Currently, the company was working on restoring Old Wickery Bridge, one of Stars Hollow's oldest historical bridges. Dean knew that Tom would have never hired him onto this particular project if the man didn't trust in him and his work. As such, Dean had high hopes that if he did a good job on this particular job, he might soon earn a place on Tom's regular construction crew. If nothing else, the job would look great on his resume and would no doubt help him develop his career in construction.

When he had joined the supplemental construction crew working on the Dragonfly last November, Dean had only taken the job on as a means of earning money. Surprisingly, however, he soon learned that he not only had a knack for it, but that he enjoyed construction quite a bit. So much so that, last January, he had taken the plunge and decided to shift his post-secondary studies to construction, contracting and landscaping.

Dean's hope was that once he managed to graduate in five years, he would have enough education and experience to make opening his own construction business feasible. As far as dreams went, it was a fairly recent one – but it was one dream he held at heart. And unlike most of his other dreams, this particular ambition could actually be within his grasp – if he only did the work necessary to reach it. When he had settled on pursuing his dream last January, he had felt ecstatic and proud of his decision. His drive and ambition to reach his goals had been boundless at that time.

However, those sentiments had quickly faltered under the weight of Lindsay's recriminations.

When he had told Lindsay of his decision to pursue a college degree in the summer prior to their wedding, his fiancée had been unhappy with the idea. Lindsay felt that a degree from a community college wasn't worth the paper it was printed on, much less the thousands of dollars it would cost to earn it. And as such, she argued that it was an unnecessary expense that would tax their resources needlessly, especially with their wedding day fast approaching.

Dean's parents, however, had been very proud of his decision.

Neither one had had the drive nor the means of attending college in their youth. And although neither had repined their lack of opportunity, they had felt throughout the years that they could have done better for themselves if only they had been able to obtain a higher education. Still, through hard work and diligence they had succeeded in earning a fairly comfortable life for themselves and their children. Although they had once hoped that their own children would achieve what they had not, the Foresters quickly realised that their children were unsuited to the classroom. This was not due to a lack of intelligence, but rather due to their enthusiastic characters, which although made them eager for life, also made them impatient in the school room and quickly prone towards annoyance for those subjects which failed to capture their interests. Dean's decision to pursue a higher education, although unexpected, had impressed them with the strength and determination of their son's character. As such, they had insisted on being allowed to pay for Dean's first semester at the college.

Once his parents had announced this decision, Lindsay had capitulated on their argument. At the time, Dean had believed that his parent's enthusiasm for his education had convinced Lindsay that his pursuit of a degree was a worthwhile goal. It wasn't until last January, when he told his wife that he had shifted the focus of his studies, that Dean realised his wife had relented simply because the cost of tuition of his first semester would not be coming out of their own money.

Lindsay, it seemed, had assumed that he would quickly grow weary of the devotion collegiate classes required and drop-out after the first semester. Once it became clear that Dean had no such intentions, but worse still that he planned to use his hard earned money to pay for it all, Lindsay had immediately resumed her objections. It was at this time that she truly began her campaign for a townhouse.

Nowadays it seemed that most of their fights circled back to that damn townhouse. Lindsay had never liked living in an apartment. She felt that apartments were much too cramped to be comfortable and offered little in the way of privacy. To add to this, his wife would often complain that their charming little apartment was rundown, outdated and depressive. Several times a day she would expound her belief that he was wasting good money on something that was utterly worthless. Lindsay would then accuse him of being dismissive towards her feelings and her opinions. Worst still, she would insist that the insult was compounded by the fact that all the money he wasted on his degree could have instead all gone towards buying her the townhouse she so _very much_ wanted.

" _Besides,"_ she would always say. _"A townhouse is a solid investment in our future"_

Their future together.

It was all too easy for him to admit that, despite all of his pretences, Dean very much doubted they had a future anymore – if they ever had one to begin with.

" _In a townhouse,"_ Lindsay would argue, _"We can finally settle down properly. Make a proper home for ourselves. And who knows, maybe in a few years we can begin thinking about starting a family."_

Dean sighed.

The idea of settling down properly with Lindsay didn't appeal to him in the least. But it was the thought of having children with her that truly forced him to come to terms with the reality of his situation. And the reality of the situation was that there wasn't much of a marriage between him and Lindsay anymore.

He had long ago admitted to himself that he didn't love Lindsay – that he had never loved Lindsay. But worse still, he now had no choice but to admit that he didn't even really _like_ his wife anymore. When they had been dating, Lindsay had seemed like such a sweet, loving, and kind girl. But in marriage Dean had discovered that his wife could be petty and cruel at the best of times. Some might argue that their marriage had brought out the worst in both of them – and Dean didn't necessarily disagree. He had cheated on his wife after all. However, Dean couldn't help but wonder how matrimonial strife could have altered Lindsay's character to such a degree.

Where he once found her selfless, he now found selfish. Her sweetness of temper had irrevocably soured. Now, if his wife spoke to him with any note of sweetness in her voice, Dean instinctively knew that Lindsay wanted something she knew he couldn't give to her. Her sympathy and understanding had turned into an unfeeling and bitter jealousy. In recent months, Lindsay treated him less and less like a husband, and more like an erring pet who required a strong hand to put him back into his place.

For months now he had wanted to end the charade that was his marriage. Yet he refrained from doing so for his parent's sake. However, he really didn't know how much longer he could put up with all of this. Lindsay's behaviour as of late was eating away at him, and sooner or later he knew he would break. Dean just didn't know _how_ he would break. Would he give in to Lindsay? Or would he reach the point where he couldn't stand it anymore, and follow through with his desires heedless of those he was hurting in the process?

One thing was certain.

Something needed to change…

And it needed to change soon.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lane's apartment) 2:29 p.m.**

Rory stared resolutely at the ceiling. She had grown tired of looking at Lane's gobsmacked face after several moments of utterly shocked silence.

"You're what!?" Lane exclaimed, the news having finally caught up with her.

Startled, Rory hissed, " _Lane_ , not so loud."

Surprised at Rory's vehemence, Lane quite successfully imitated a fish for a moment before understanding dawned. Behind her square framed glasses, Lane's eyes widened and her gaze darted towards the door.

Her face contorted in mild horror as she realised that attracting the attention of her curious band mates would not be a good thing at the moment. Casting a suspicious eye at the locked door, Lane quickly scrambled across the bed and huddled closer to Rory.

"You're _pregnant?"_ Lane reaffirmed.

Rory glared her.

"Sorry," Lane croaked. She was valiantly attempting to whisper. However, the shock of the news had yet to fade, and as a result her voice kept coming out a few octaves higher than intended.

Rory sighed. Despite not having heard much more than a garbled squeak, Rory understood all too well what her best friend was trying to ask. She opened her mouth to answer, but her voice died in her throat. Again she sighed, and thought how very difficult this all was. Looking back towards the ceiling, her hand reached out, feeling around for a pillow. Her search complete, Rory took a hold of the smiley faced pillow her right hand had found, and hugged it tightly to her chest. Taking a deep breath, Rory's eyes fixed on Lane's pale face and hesitantly nodded.

Shocked, Lane's mouth dropped entirely open and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. Her already pallid complexion paled considerably more, and for a moment Rory began to worry that her best friend had forgotten how to breathe before Lane shrieked out, " _Oh my god!_ "

Startled, Rory's hand instinctively darted out and slapped Lane's mouth closed. Rory winced at the sound of flesh slapping flesh. She hadn't meant to slap Lane – just to cover her mouth to keep her from screaming out something she shouldn't. Lane, however, didn't seem angry with her. In fact, her wide, horrified eyes were fixed firmly upon the bedroom door.

Confused, it took Rory a couple of moments to realize that the low thrum of conversation had halted on the other side of the door. The girls watched, motionless, as the sound of shuffling footsteps came towards the door.

A light knock rasped against the wooden door.

"You guys okay in there?" Zack he asked.

Looking back at Lane, Rory couldn't help but glare at her. Wincing, Lane removed her friend's hand from her mouth and mouthed a silent _sorry_ to Rory.

Impatiently, Zack called out for a response, "Lane? Rory?"

In attempt to clear out the cobwebs and regain her composure, Lane smacked her forehead three times. The attempt proved to be less than successful, and Lane could only manage to emit a very high pitched squeak.

"Lane?" Zach queried once more, confusion clearly coloring his voice.

Rory would later swear she could clearly hear him scratching his befuddled head through the door.

"Yeah, we are Zack," Lane managed to squeak out.

Her answer, however, didn't seem to inspire much confidence in the scraggly haired blond. The girls hear Zack shuffling on the other side of the door for a moment.

"You sure?" Zack asks.

Exasperated, Lane finally regained her composure – and her voice.

"Oh. My. God. Zack. Yes, we're fine! Can you go now?"

Zack snorted in frustration. "Okay, okay, fine. Geez, no need to bite my head off."

"Thank you," Lane replied.

The girls waited a moment, but did not hear Zack retreat from the door.

"Zack!" Lane exclaimed angrily.

Silence reigned for a moment, and then sound of shuffling feet could be heard through the door. Lane pursed her lips in annoyance. She was just about to scold the blond when Zack cleared his throat.

"You guys almost done in there? Cause we've been waiting for –"

Scowling, Lane cut Zack off. "Not now Zack!"

On the other side of the door Zack groaned.

"Come on Lane! Practice was supposed to start twenty minutes ago!" Zack whined.

Lane's nostrils flared as she grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it against the door. "Go away Zach," she screeched out, beyond angry with him.

They heard a startled yelp through the door as the pillow was thrown against it. Thankfully, for once, Zack showed an unexpected sense of self-preservation and walked away. His retreat, however, was not a silent one as the girls could hear him complaining about moody women.

Rory and Lane both looked at each other, unsure as to how to proceed. Neither one seemed to know quite what to say to the other in the wake of such a shocking turn of events. Silence reigned for several moments, and both began to grow uncomfortable. There was a mounting tension in the air, and neither felt equal to the task of diffusing it. Still, Lane felt the pressing need to move forward – for nothing would be accomplished if they both just laid there looking at each other in dismay.

"How?" Lane asked timidly.

An incredulous look crossed Rory's face.

"Okay, okay, I know _how,_ but…" Lane groaned at the sheer awkwardness of the situation. Throwing her hands in defeat, she gesticulated wildly. " _How?"_

Rory scowled.

Lane sighed. "I mean, did the condom break? Or maybe… Did you forget the condom?"

" _No!_ We didn't forget the condom. The damn thing must have broken. How else could it have happed?" Rory growled.

The sound of the boys moving about in the other room startled the girls. Both tensed in alarm for several moments before it became clear that the boys hadn't heard Rory's angry rebuttal.

"Okay, okay, I was just wondering…" Lane finally whispered.

Rory let out a whimper and ran her hand over her face. "This is pointless. Whether the condom broke or not doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm pregnant and I don't know what to _do!"_

"But you've only had sex twice." Lane replied, sincerely at a loss as to what to say in this particular situation.

Rory snorted. "Yeah, well, it turns out that two times was two times too many."

Floundering, Lane grasped onto the first thought that flitted across her mind. "But it's not fair! I'm mean, what does Dea –"

Rory looked away from Lane, valiantly trying to hide the tears forming in her eyes.

Flabbergast, Lane's eyes widened to astounding proportions. " _Oh my God! Dean!"_

A tear traveled down Rory's right cheek as comprehension dawned on Lane's features. "He's married!" she exclaims.

"I know," Rory answered, wiping the tear away.

Both girls are silent for several minutes, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on both their minds.

"What are you going to do now?" Lane finally mustered up the courage to ask.

Rory doesn't answer.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Main Street) 3:04 p.m.**

Leaving Lane's apartment, Rory couldn't ever remember a time she had ever felt so low before.

" _What are you going to do now?"_ Lane had asked her.

It was a good question – probably the most important question of all.

Rory would have liked to have had an answer.

Sighing, Rory stopped at the corner of Cherry Road and Blossom Street. She looked up at the bright blue sky and felt utterly defeated. The sound of people passing her by, smiling and greeting as they went registered in Rory's mind. She was able to return an absentminded reply, but not much else. Rory felt like she was lost in a thick fog, and she couldn't think her way out of it this time around. Her brain was too crowded, filled with thoughts of her mother, Lane, Dean and most especially Lindsay. That morning's altercation left her muddled and uncertain.

What should she do?

Out of the corner of her eye, Rory noticed Dean striding determinedly through the town square and her breath caught in her throat.

He was looking for someone. Who she didn't know – but Rory had no intention of waiting to find out.

She might not have figured out her next move, but she did know she couldn't face Dean yet.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Town Square) 3:08 p.m.**

Dean watched in dismay as Rory quickly walked away.

He had overheard about Lindsay and Mrs. Lister picking a fight with Rory and Lorelai on his way to Luke's. Horrified over what had happened, Dean had quickly set out to make his way towards the Gilmore residence. He needed to make sure that Rory was okay.

She had seen him, Dean was sure of it.

Rory had seen him and had decided to walk away in the other direction.

She didn't want to see him.

This, more than anything else, proved to Dean that, even if he managed to extricate himself from his marriage to Lindsay, his relationship with Rory was truly and utterly destroyed.

Rory didn't want anything to do with him.

Rory couldn't have made her feelings for him any more evident.

And that, more than anything else hurt Dean the most.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 15** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean & Lindsay's Apartment) 3:17 p.m.**

They had been waiting for him when he returned to the apartment.

Dean had barely walked through the door before Lindsay and her mother began their barrage of accusations, insults and reprimands. Dean didn't really hear a single word they said. He could tell, though, how angry they both were by the way they scowled and theatrically waved about. Dean could have sworn that Mrs. Lister said something about Clara at some point, but all he could clearly make out was the sound of rushing water.

As the blondes wagged their fingers at him, and looked down on him condescendingly, all Dean could bring himself to do was to nod his head in silent agreement.

Dean didn't have it in him to do much more than that right now.

* * *

 **Edited May 25 2017**


	7. The Piper's Due

**Author's Note:** Alright, here's the new chapter. I should warn you guys that there might be some typos here and there. I got a new desktop and I am still getting used to the new keyboard.

I also decided to play around with some of the canon scenes. After the last chapter, I thought that dictating the canon scenes verbatim was getting a bit boring. Hope you like the twist – I don't know how you guys are going to react to it though. I might have gotten carried away…

On another note, if someone would like to volunteer as beta for grammar patrol, I would appreciate it. My main focus at this point is rewriting those bits and bobs that were lost in the Boxing Day crash and rewriting those scenes that really need it. I will be glancing through the rest, and fixing those errors that pop out at me. But I will not be nitpicking nor rewriting the entire thing. As such, grammar errors will likely make it through unless someone's willing to comb through the text beforehand.

Once again, please review. You wouldn't believe the kind of motivation reviews give me.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 6: The Piper's Due**

* * *

 **Friday September 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow, (Gilmore Residence – Kitchen) 5:19 p.m.**

Lorelai pumped her right fist up into the air, triumphantly clutching her missing peep toe black suede stiletto heel. She grinned and looked victoriously upon the offending heel, flushed with success. Her stiletto had thought itself o so very clever, hiding inside an old crockpot she had forgotten she owned altogether.

But no! Let it never be said that Lorelai Gilmore would be so easily defeated by errant footwear or nefarious kitchen appliances!

Bringing the heel up to inspection, Lorelai couldn't help but grimace as she noticed the black suede was somewhat dusty from its little sojourn with the hot pink crockpot.

The sight pricked at her tense nerves. With everything going on, the last thing she needed right now was a lecture from Emily Gilmore on proper shoe care and maintenance. The thought of discarding the heels in favor of another pair seemed momentarily appealing. But then the sound of the clock tick, tick, ticking away reminded her that they were already late and finding a pair that would match her dress and not incite her mother's ire in any way, shape or form would undoubtedly take another fifteen minutes.

As the idea of shoe hunting once more held little appeal to Lorelai, she glared at the miserable stiletto and proceeded to frantically wave the offending item about. This, of course, was done in the hope that the dust would simply fall off if she just shook it about hard enough.

However illogical the thought might have been, the practice did prove to be somewhat effective as some of the dust particle detached from the black suede and began tickling at her nose.

"Achooo!" Lorelai sneezed.

 _Damn it!_

Could nothing just go according to plan tonight? It wasn't as if the night didn't already promise to be particularly horrendous! Tonight would, after all, only be the first Friday night dinner since Rory gone off to Europe with her mother.

A piece of cake really!

After all, there was nothing daunting about the idea of facing her parents for the first time since she found out that Rory was pregnant.

 _Nothing at ALL!_

 _Damn it!_

 _What was wrong with her?_

Lorelai felt worse than she had when she was sixteen years old and had to tell her parents that she was pregnant. She didn't know how or why, but somehow this was worse.

And Rory! Rory was a wreck – and so was her room. She'd gone through her entire wardrobe trying to find something to wear for tonight that would make her look _normal._ She'd walked in there half an hour ago and all she could see was clothes. Even the better part of the floor was covered in discarded shirts, skirts and dresses.

Rory was a bundle of nerves.

And to be perfectly honest, so was she.

But it's not like there was anything to be really nervous about tonight. Tonight, they would just have dinner.

 _It's not like Rory was planning on telling Emily and Richard Gilmore she was pregnant tonight._

No, there would be no big reveal tonight.

At least, Lorelai didn't think there would be.

They hadn't had the talk yet.

After Wednesday's debacle with Mrs. Lister, Lorelai hadn't been able to bring herself to ask Rory the questions that needed to be asked.

And Rory had seemed keen on ignoring the subject for the time being. They hadn't even talked about the confrontation with Lindsay and Mrs. Lister as of yet, and Lorelai was beginning to worry that Rory might let it affect how she chose to deal with this pregnancy.

They needed to talk, and soon.

They were running out of time. Rory would be going back to Yale Wednesday, and then life would just find another way to make the situation even more complicated than it already was. Rory needed to figure out what she wanted to do before that happened.

They needed to talk – but not tonight.

Tonight, they just had to get through Friday night dinner.

* * *

 **Friday September 17** **th** **2004, Hertfordshire, (Gilmore Manor) 6:27 p.m.**

Rory took a deep breath as her mother rang the doorbell. She was determined to ignore that anxious, nauseous feeling climbing up her spine and bubbling in her stomach. The last thing she wanted was for her grandparents to realise that there was something wrong with her. And so, with this thought in mind, Rory valiantly attempted to relax her tense muscles. Her efforts, however, were to no avail, for it wasn't until her mom reached over and grabbed her hand that Rory was able to stop nervously fidgeting.

Thankfully, Lorelai had intervened just in time, as the door opened to reveal an unfamiliar maid just a moment later.

The maid in question was blonde, blue-eyed and stern. With a scowl on her face the woman gestured for them to enter.

"May I take your things?" the maid asked in a belligerent tone.

Rory shared a glance with her. The new maid appeared somewhat hostile, but that wasn't unusual. After all, as her mother would say, maids tended to become prickly after a few days of working for grandma.

By the time that it crossed Rory's mind that this might not be a typical case, it was too late.

Not bothering to wait for an answer, or even for the guests to enter the manor properly, the maid grasped at Rory's shoulders, encouraged her to turn around none too gently, and the proceeded to carelessly yank off her jacket.

"Ow," Rory exclaimed, as felt the force of the act tug uncomfortably at the sockets of her joints.

Neither reacting to Rory's discomfort nor apologising for it, the maid continued with her rough handling until she had pried Rory's jacket from her abused arms.

Incensed, Lorelai moved to intercede. However, before she could do much more step between her daughter and the aggressor, the maid turned towards Lorelai and proceeded to offer her the same treatment.

Rory's eyes widened as she watched the blonde woman forceful yank at her mother's leather jacket. Lorelai protested and attempted to free herself to no avail as the maid simply kept wrenching at the garment. The more her mother objected, the more vicious the maid became. Finally, after several harsh and deliberately uncoordinated tugs, the maid succeeded in haranguing Lorelai from her jacket.

Her mother stumbled forward and Rory had but a moment to notice the maid's satisfaction before her purse was unceremoniously snatched out of her hand.

Rory yelped as the strap snagged painfully around her wrist before she succeeded in freeing it.

Lorelai, having regained her balance pulled Rory behind her and gave the maid a fearsome scowl.

"What is your –" Lorelai began scolding the maid, but was interrupted as the maid indulged in one last ludicrous display.

And so the Gilmore girls watched, incredulous, as the maid threw her ill begotten items onto the sideboard, seemingly aiming for the antique vase displayed upon it. The vase, as expected, was struck. For a single moment, it teetered to the side before inevitably fall to the floor. The decorative ceramic shattered, pieces of it gliding off every which way. It the aftermath of the disaster the maid appeared both self-satisfied and unrepentantly gleeful.

The affront, however, was not yet at an end.

Grinning, the maid turned her attention down to the floor where Lorelai's purse laid in a heap. Catching Lorelai's eye, the blonde smirked and delivered a strong kick to her purse. Rory watched as her mother's purse flee into the next room and landed against something. The sound of breaking glass told Rory the purse had most probably took out another antique vase.

"Mrs. Gilmore is waiting for you both in the garden."

And with that, the Gilmore girls watched as the maid marched off towards the kitchen without a care in the world.

* * *

 **Friday September 17** **th** **2004, Hertfordshire, (Gilmore Manor) 8:34 p.m.**

Rory climbed into her mother's jeep and slumped into her seat. If she had not been distracted by the sound of her mother groaning, Rory might have even closed her eyes. As it was, however, she watched as Lorelai mimicked bashing her head against the steering wheel several times. After a couple of long minutes and few more moans and groans, Lorelai turned her attention towards Rory and the two shared a long look.

 _Did that really happen?_

Rory had a hard time believing it. Yet she couldn't deny that the night had simply been one disaster after the next.

Although Rory would readily admit that a few of her grandmother's maids had treated them rather snippily once they'd reached their breaking point, none of them had ever become violent before.

 _None of them._

Not a single one – not before _Helga._

And the worse part was, Helga turned out to be the lynchpin in what Rory now believed to be the worst Friday night dinner they had ever had.

After the maid's rough handling, Rory had followed her mom out into the garden to find her grandparents fighting again. Rory had harbored some hope that her grandmother's impromptu trip to Europe would have softened their anger towards one and other, and that she would find her grandparents happily reconciled.

That, however, was not the case. Not only had they not been reconciled, but grandpa had moved into the pool house since grandma had returned. To make matters worse, their fight had escalated to the point where neither could apparently stand to be in the presence of the other long enough for the family to share a few drinks and some dinner. As a result, they had decided that they grandpa would have drinks in the pool house and grandma would serve dinner in the main house.

Only, grandpa hadn't been satisfied with the arrangement, since it afforded him so little time with them in comparison to the time grandma would have. And so, he had sought to extend his portion of the evening by ordering his butler to serve something with the cocktails. As a result, the butler had commandeered some Hungarian cheese from the kitchen. The cheese in question, however, had apparently been meant to be a part of dinner. As a result grandma had been furious and had even begun accusing grandpa of purposely seeking to ruin her dinner. It had been at that unfortunate moment that they had walked in on the fight.

The fight, unfortunately, had only gotten worse once they had related the incident with the maid. Although both had been very angry over what the maid had done, rather than allow grandma to confront the maid directly, grandpa had chosen instead to throw another dig at grandma and blame her for the renegade maid. By the time her mom had been able get them to remember that the maid ought to be dealt with, several minutes had passed and the maid had left.

From there, things had simply escalated. In addition to a broken vase and figurine, it quickly became apparent that the maid had rifled through their purses. They keys to the jeep had, thankfully, been left behind, but all of their money had been stolen. Their cellphones had been broken, although whether it had the result of their purses having been thrown about or whether the maid had taken the time to smash them had been unclear.

It hadn't taken long for grandma to realise that a few small, but expensive items had gone missing as well. That had served as an impetus for grandpa, and he had once again begun blaming grandma for the maid's behavior. Only then, he had chosen to further the insult by insinuating that she did not know how to properly manage a house, and that her inability to retain her staff for more than a few days proved as much.

Needless to say, they had spent the rest of the evening yelling at one another, and no amount of effort to break off of the fight on her part or her mother's had proved effective. In the end, it hadn't been until grandma had stormed off if huff that the fight had come to an end. Grandpa had fallen suit and marched off to the pool house.

They had, like dinner, been left forgotten in the aftermath.

"Luke's?" Lorelai asked, her face still pressed up against the steering wheel.

"Luke's" Rory agreed. "No holds barred."

"No holds barred." Lorelai confirmed.

* * *

 **Monday September 20** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow, (Gilmore Residence) 11:13 a.m.**

"So… You have an appointment with your academic advisor on Saturday?"

Rory sighed.

She had expected this.

Rory had known that her mother would begin asking her questions sooner or later. Although she was rather surprised that her mother had decided to broach the subject later rather than sooner - not that she wasn't grateful.

Rory was, in fact, very grateful that in light of all the recent upset, her mother had chosen to give her time to recover from her ordeals. However, as grateful as she was, Rory realised that it was high time to pay the piper.

"Yes. I do." Rory took one last glance at the title of the book she was holding and placed it in her 'bring' pile. She was in the middle of organizing her things for the big move on Wednesday, seeing what she would bring with her to Yale and what she would leave behind.

"Good. That's good." Lorelai enthused, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

Rory frowned as a thought crossed her mind. "How did you know?" she asked.

Lorelai crossed her arms in front her chest. "They left a message on the answering machine."

"Oh," Rory nodded her head. "Right."

"Yeah," Lorelai sighed. "So… Yale."

"Yeah. Yale." Rory bit her lip.

"Do you know how…"Lorelai trailed off, uncertain.

"How I'm going to juggle Yale and…" Rory gestured to her stomach, "this."

Lorelai gave a nervous chuckle.

"I don't know," Rory confirmed. "I'm hoping that my advisor will be able to give me some options – at least where Yale is concerned."

"Good." Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief. "Options are good."

"Yeah," Rory agreed. "They are."

"So…" Lorelai moved towards the couch and gingerly sat on the arm. "March?"

"Yeah. March." Rory picked up a book and examined its cover. "Or, at least, that's what the guy at the hospital told us."

"Yeah, well… We'll know more once you the OB the first week of October," Lorelai said.

"Yeah, I guess," she agreed.

Lorelai let out a nervous laugh. "Grandma. I'm going to be a grandma by March."

Rory sighed.

"So," Lorelai continued, "Dean?"

Rory closed her eyes and took a breath. She had to sit down, she didn't feel too well at the moment.

"I mean, have you told him?" Lorelai asked. "I guess not, huh? I mean you would have told me if you had already, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. I would have." Rory put down her book, having entirely forgotten which pile it belonged to.

"When are you planning to –"

"I don't know! I don't know, okay?" Rory abruptly stood up and walked to the other side of the room. She was dizzy and breathless, but she couldn't bring herself to still. "He's married mom. _Married."_

"I know," Lorelai nodded her head.

" _Married_. He has a wife – _a wife_ ," she cried. "You saw her. You saw how hurt she was when she found out Dean was still talking to me, how do you think she will react once she finds out that he cheated on her and got me pregnant?" Rory sniffled. "And her _mother_. She was furious and screaming and calling me that awful name in the middle of town square just because I was talking to Dean."

"I know sweetie," Lorelai stood, intending on hugging her daughter until she was soothed. Rory, however, deflected her attempt. Lorelai sighed before saying confidently, "she shouldn't have done that."

"Shouldn't she?" Rory asked. "I had sex with Dean twice, and got pregnant. Shouldn't she be angry at how much pain I will be causing her daughter? Shouldn't she call me a whore and rail against me? Wouldn't you?"

"Oh honey," Lorelai took a deep breath, trying not to cry herself. "She didn't know any of that. Mrs. Lister just knew that you were talking to Dean – not that you had slept with him or that you had gotten pregnant. Just that you were talking to him. And that was no excuse for the way she acted that day."

"Maybe it wasn't, but it doesn't change the fact that everything is just going to get so much worse once they find out. Lindsay –" Rory sobbed. "Lindsay is going to be devastated, and Mrs. Lister is going to be furious and Dean –" her voice broke.

"Dean?" Lorelai probed.

Rory took in a long, shuddering breath. "Dean will be stuck in the middle. He'll have to choose between his marriage and-and –" she stuttered.

"But honey," Lorelai sighed. "Hasn't Dean already chosen? Didn't he tell you that his marriage with Lindsay was over? Wasn't that what you told me the night I found you two?"

"Yeah, he did." Rory sobbed out a laugh. "But that was months ago. And he's still with her. If he meant it, why is he still with her?"

Rory looked upon her mother imploringly, hoping she would have an answer – that she would know why Dean was still with his wife when he told her he would end things. But all she saw in her mother's face was heartbreak – heartbreak and sympathy – and Rory knew that her mother had come to the same conclusion she had.

Rory began sobbing in earnest then and let down her guard long enough for Lorelai to grab a hold of her and hug her as tightly as she could. For several moments, her mother soothed her as best she could.

"Oh, honey. I know it hurts right now, but I promise you, it will get better. But right now, you have to think about the future, and what your baby will need from you. Now, I think we can both agree that you can raise this kid with or without Dean's help. But, sweetie, just because you don't need his help for this, doesn't mean that you can keep him and everyone else in the dark about it. Whether or not he actually takes up the part, he will become a father and he has a right to know that."

"I know," Rory pulled back from the hug so she could look at her mother's face. "But I can't. Not now and not soon."

Lorelai prepared to protest, but Rory cut her off before she could. "Don't see mom. Everything's a wreck – my life, his life, our lives. Dean needs to figure out what he wants. He said his marriage was over months ago, but he's still with her despite the fact that everyone says they can't stop fighting. And that's fine – as long as it's what he wants. But mom – I can't tell him I'm pregnant until things have settled. I need to figure out how I'm going to deal with all of this – and I can't do that with Mrs. Lister calling me out in the middle of the street, and Lindsay crying about how much I've hurt and Dean stuck in the middle. I can't, mom. I can't. Maybe later – but not now – and not anytime soon."

Lorelai sighed, seeing that Rory wouldn't budge from her current position. And to be perfectly honest, a part of her couldn't help but agree with her daughter. If things had been different, she never would have conceded. However, Mrs. Lister had not only picked a fight with Rory in public, but had also tried to slap her in the midst of it. It was clear that Dean's life was currently unstable and rife with drama. None of which would be good for Rory in her present condition. Ad so, for the time being, Lorelai agreed that it would be best if Rory steered clear of that particular mess.

"Okay," Lorelai agreed.

Rory let out a relieved breath and pulled her mother back into a hug. Still, her mother wasn't quite done as of yet.

"Your grandparents?" Lorelai probed.

Rory nodded. "Next Friday night dinner – after I've met with my advisor and the OB."

"Good."

And all was silent for several minutes, until a thought crossed Lorelai's mind.

"Twice?" Lorelai enquired, frowning.

"What?" Rory laughed out as lifted her head from her mother's neck and gazed at her.

"You said you and Dean had sex twice. To my knowledge, it was only the one time. Mind explaining that to me kiddo?"

"Oh," Rory blushed. "We met at Miss. Patty's Dance Studio the next day. We were just supposed to talk, but then – he walked in. Before I knew it, we were on the floor having sex on an Al Gilbert record."

"Al Gilbert?" Lorelai queried, amused.

"Yeah" Rory confirmed.

"Well, I guess that's better than being out on the balcony with the Henderson's watching." Lorelai joked.

Horrified, Rory exclaimed, "What?"

* * *

 **Posted June 23rd 2017**


	8. Home, Sweet Home

**Author's Note:** To those of you that have already read WS, I hope you have been enjoying all of the new content I've added. Between all the bits and bobs that didn't make the original cut, and all the other pieces that I've written up to make WS more comprehensive and fluid, the story has actually doubled both in length and in drama. Hopefully this will make re-reading the fic worthwhile.

On another note, I've not received any offers for grammar patrol. So we will all just have to accept that this fic will be un-beta'd and hope that my errors don't take anything away from the story ; )

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Home, Sweet Home**

* * *

 **Wednesday September 22** **nd** **2004, Yale (Rory's Dorm Room) 8:54 a.m.**

Rory sighed as she watched Marty stumble out of her dorm.

 _He_ had actually placed _a bet_ on the fact that Professor Fleming would die in bed!

Rory didn't blame Marty for believing the professor would die in bed. The man had been, after all was said and done, known for being sexually prolific amongst his students. Rory had herself been guilty of jumping to that very same conclusion. Worse still, she had actually felt the need to ask Paris whether or not she had inadvertently proved to be too much for the old man in the end. Even so, assuming that Professor Fleming had died between the sheets and betting on the eventuality were two completely different sins.

Still… Rory couldn't help but chuckle as she remembered Marty's swift exit. He must have realised that his answer hadn't impressed her, because he high tailed it out of her dorm moments later. He had looked like a five year old with a chocolate covered face.

At least Marty hadn't tried to obfuscate. He had been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, and had been smart enough to realise that denying the fact or attempting to justify it would only make him look worse in the end.

Rory could only imagine what Paris would do if she ever found out that Marty had placed a bet on her boyfriend meeting his untimely end in her bed.

And just like that, what little amusement Rory had found from the situation vanished in the blink on an eye.

Paris.

She had to be devastated at what had happened, and Rory couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty over it all.

Although she had been confused to find Paris missing from their dorm upon her arrival, Rory also had to admit that she had felt relieved. Paris being – well, _Paris_ , would have realised all too quickly that things were not as they ought to be with her best friend. Maybe it would have been the morning sickness, or the slight swell of her stomach, but Rory knew that something would have given her away within _days_ of arriving at Yale.

She had been glad to think that she could stay the inevitable – if only for a few hours more. But that had been before she had known that Professor Fleming had met his untimely end.

And that had just made everything so much worse.

Because despite everything – Rory was still so very much relieved.

Due to the feuding Fleming family members, Rory wouldn't have to face Paris and her probing eyes for several more days – and she was relived at the prospect.

 _This, naturally, made her feel like the worse human being to walk the planet._

* * *

 **Friday September 24** **th** **2004, Hertfordshire, (Carrington Shopping Mall), 1:27 p.m.**

Lindsay examined the pink crystal vase before her.

The blonde scowled as she thought of all her husband had denied her. Her displeasure attracted her mother's concern, and Lindsay soon found herself wrapped in her mother's embrace. The woman sighed and combed her hand through her daughter's hair.

"Are you well dear?" Mrs. Lister asked.

Lindsay snorted, "I've been married for nearly a year now and I'm still living in the crappy, dirty little apartment because Dean still hasn't gotten his head out of his ass and bought me that townhouse I want!"

"Yes, well, I will admit, the apartment is…" Her mother grimaced, "distasteful. And that husband of yours is – well," she trailed off.

"An idiot." Lindsay offered.

"Yes." Mrs. Lister nodded in agreement. "He is that."

Her mother sighed. And for several moments both blondes stared forlornly at the crystal vase.

Slowly, a hint of a smile crept up on her mother's features and Lindsay frowned. "Well…" Mrs. Lister began. "Perhaps you should remind him of your needs. After all, your anniversary is little more than a week away. He can't possibly deny you what you what you want on the anniversary of your wedding day."

"No…" A small smirk overtook Lindsay's features. "He can't. Can't he?"

Her mother snorted derisively. "No. He certainly cannot! Especially given his wretched behavior as of late…" She nodded her head decisively. "No, I dare say he has little choice but to see to it that my baby girl gets everything she deserves on her special day."

After all of the recent unpleasantness with Dean, her mother had convinced her that a day of pampering would be just the cure for any of her lingering resentment. Dean had been brought to heel, and much to Lindsay's satisfaction, her dear husband was currently serving out his sentence without so much as a single complaint.

It seemed that, at the very least, Dean had come to realise that his behavior had been unacceptable. And to think, all it had taken to effect such a change in her stubborn husband had been a firm guiding hand. If only Lindsay had known, she could have been much more exacting in the past, and perhaps she would not find herself so deprived as she had been for the past year.

But she had been operating under the assumption that a sweet, innocent disposition would gain her more from her fool of a husband that a strict and demanding temperament. Unfortunately, Lindsay's supposition had now been proven false. Lindsay was forced to admit that she had wasted a year of her life attempting to sweet talk Dean into giving her what she deserved, when she should have been demanding it of him.

If Lindsay had simply insisted to be given her due, Dean would never have enrolled in that third rate public college. And as such, the money his parents had given him for his first semester of college would have been put to better use as a down payment on the townhouse _she_ wanted, _and so richly deserved_.

As it was, however, Lindsay still found herself stuck in that disgusting little apartment on _Peach Street._

No more.

 _She was done asking for what she deserved._

 _She_ would _demand_ her due. And _he would_ give it to her.

 _Yes._ It was decided. From now on Lindsay would simply _demand_ that he gave her what she wanted. No more holding back. No more attempting to cajole the idiot into seeing things her way.

Lindsay would have what she wanted.

It should be fairly easy. After all, her husband was still licking his wounds from his latest mistake. And ever since she'd implemented her new strictures, Dean had been much more malleable than was his wont.

"Lindsay? Darling, do you want the pretty little vase?" Mrs. Lister asked.

 _Yes._

She would finally receive all that she deserved.

It was high time her husband got his head out of his ass and realized she deserved so much more than what he had been giving her.

* * *

 **Saturday September 25** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow, (Gilmore Residence) 9:16 a.m.**

Lorelai ignored the sound of the phone ringing as she rushed by. There was a large party due to arrive at the Dragon Fly today and she was already half an hour late getting there. She would have to skip grabbing coffee at Luke's if she wanted to make it to the inn before Michel had a conniption.

Lorelai was just in the midst of wrestling her arm into a jacket when the answering machine picked up the call.

"Lorelai?" Christopher asked. "Lorelai are you there?"

" _Gahah!_ " Lorelai jumped, startled by the sound of Christopher's voice.

"Lorelai? If you're there please pick up." Christopher pleaded.

She slowly backed away from the answering machine, not quite conscious of her actions.

"Look, Lorelai, something came up with Gigi and Sherry last week, and, well…" Christopher sighed, "I forgot that I was supposed to have lunch with Rory last Thursday. I've been calling her all morning wanting to apologize, but she's not answering her phone. Could you please call her and tell her how sorry I am? And that I would like to reschedule before she gets too wrapped up in schoolwork?"

The line remained silent for several moments before Christopher sighed once again. "Okay… Good. Thanks. Bye."

Lorelai stared at the answering machine, horrified.

They had forgotten about _Christopher._

* * *

 **Saturday September 25** **th** **2004, Yale (Advisor's Office) 9:17 a.m.**

Rory Gilmore took a deep breath and tried to swallow down her anxiety.

The feat, however, proved neigh on impossible to accomplish. All it took was one single glance around her and Rory found her stomach and heart once again jammed in her throat, making it difficult for her to breathe.

She had been in this room before, at least a half a dozen times if not more. But Rory had never really noticed much of anything about the room before. She had always been too preoccupied with her thoughts, reviewing her lists and making sure she hadn't forgotten to jot down any question she wanted to ask.

Today, however, Rory was all too aware of her surroundings. The marble floor gleamed as the sun shone through the windows. The expensive wooden paneling, trimmed with gold in the style of the old Victorians, glowed from the wood polish. Not a single speck of dust clung to them – not even in the nooks and crannies of its engravings. The expensive Regency style furniture was pristine, looking for all the world as if it hadn't served any form of practical function for the past two hundred years. All of these things intimidated Rory in a way they never had before. In their unspoiled state, all of these things seemed to mock her, to taunt her, as if they themselves considered her to be unworthy.

None more so than the two Corinthians standing on either side of a set of double doors. Elaborately carved, these doors were the portal which separated the administrative center from the counsellor's office. The Corinthians stood, as two loyal soldiers, guarding the entrance. And in her agitated state they seemed to Rory, to emphatically announce to one and all, " _You Shall Not Pass!"_

 _ **I'm the man who murdered love**_

 _ **Yeah! What do you think to that?**_

Rory startled at the sound of her cellphone's ringtone.

She _really_ needed to stop reading fantasy fiction – if only for a little while. Her imagination appeared particularly prone to running away from her at this time in her life.

Clearly, that was not such a good thing at the moment.

"Uh-Hum," the secretary cleared her throat and pointedly glared at her.

Rory tried to offer the woman an apologetic smile as she riffled through her bag for her phone. All that she was able to manage, however, was a sickly grimace. Nervously, she looked about the room and noticed that several of her peers were as annoyed with the disturbance as the secretary was.

After several long moments, Rory finally succeeded in grasping the phone. She pulled it out of her bag, fully intending on dismissing the call. Her father had attempted to reach her several times that morning already. Rory, however, anxious about the outcome of the long awaited meeting with her advisor, had not had the will nor the energy to talk to him.

Seeing her mother's name on the caller ID, however, gave Rory pause for concern. Her mother would not have called that morning if something was not amiss.

And so, to the annoyance of several individuals, Rory answered the call.

* * *

 **Saturday September 25** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 9:19 a.m.**

"Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up…" Lorelai nervously danced around the hall. "Come on Rory, just pick up the damn phone alrea–"

The sound of the ringtone abruptly cut off as Rory answered the call. Through the line Lorelai heard a slight shuffling sound before her daughter whispered, "Mom?"

"Oh" Lorelai exclaimed. "Thank God."

* * *

 **Saturday September 25** **th** **2004, Yale (Advisor's Office) 9:20 a.m.**

"Mom? What is it? Is something wrong?" Rory queried, alarmed by the notable anxiety marring the tone of her mother's voice.

"Your father called," Lorelai stated bluntly.

Rory frowned at the news, not quite certain what her mother meant for her to do with the information, "So?"

"So?" Lorelai said derisively, "Rory, your father _called._ "

Rory sighed, "Look mom, can we talk about this later. I'm at the counsellor's office right now and I could be called in at any minute now. This isn't really a good time."

"Rory," her mother sighed. "You were supposed to have lunch with Christopher last Thursday."

"Oh," Rory startled. "I forgot."

"Yeah, well," her mother paused. "Thankfully so did your father."

Rory bit her lip and ignored that little twinge that flared up every time she was reminded that she was not a priority where her father was concerned. "Well," Rory cleared her throat. "That's a good thing, right? Neither one of us had to wait after someone who wouldn't have shown up anyway. That's…" Rory trailed off, "Good."

"Rory–"

Rory cut her mother off, "No, mom, it's fine. You don't need to make excuses for him."

The line went silent for a moment, and Rory truly hoped that her mother would let it be. She was in no mood to be placated at the moment.

Lorelai sighed, "Rory, you need to call your father back."

She bit her lip, "Sure, I'll call him back. Just not today – I've got too much going on today as it is."

"Rory, you need to call your father back _today_." Lorelai emphasized.

"What?" Rory exclaimed, forgetting to moderate her voice. Before she could object to her mother's demand more strenuously, she was interrupted by several disgruntled complaints. The secretary glared at her again, and motioned with her hand for Rory to wrap up the call. Rory frowned and curled in on herself just a little bit more before whispering into her cell. "Why?" she asked. "Why can't I put off calling him for a few days? I really don't feel like dealing with a guilty dad plying me with hollow promises in a bid to make up for his latest failure. Not today. My day is going to be hard enough as it is already. Can't I just put it off for another day?"

"Oh sweetie," her mother sighed. "I really wish you could. But this is Christopher we are talking about. And what does Christopher do when he thinks he's being ignored?"

Rory groaned as the reality dawned on her. "He shows up unannounced."

"Exactly," Lorelai concurred.

Rory felt like crying – or laughing – both really. It would be a particular kind of irony if on the one occasion in her life she needed him to be a typical absentee father, Christopher roused himself into straying from his norm due to the fact that she had bruised his ego by ignoring his calls for a couple of days. Although Rory loved him dearly, she also knew that in certain respects, her father could be quite the hypocrite. Throughout her life, Christopher had never been the best of communicators. Phone calls were often left unanswered and were very rarely returned promptly. Weeks, if not months, would frequently pass by without so much as a shred of acknowledgement. Until one day, he would just show up, unannounced and unapologetic, brushing off any wrong doing on his part and expecting to be forgiven as a matter of routine.

And yet, when _he_ deigned to call _them_ , he expected to be called back within a matter of hours.

And if they didn't, well then he would just pop in announced, and expecting them to change their plans on a moments notice to better suit him. On the few occasions on which they deviated from this form, he would act out. The fallout from Sherry's unexpected pregnancy had been one such prime example of her father's lack of perspective and concern for feelings other than his own.

Naturally, at this stage in her life, Rory would prefer to avoid such a particular outcome for some weeks yet.

"So?" Lorelai prodded.

"I'll call him later today." Rory conceded.

"Uh-hum," the secretary cleared her throat pointedly, scowling at her all the while. "Rory Gilmore, the counsellor will see you now. That is, if you are quite through with your little social call…"

Rory scrambled to her feet and quickly gathered her things. "Sorry mom, but I really have to go now. I will talk to you later. Bye."

"Bye sweetie."

Rory ended the call as she walked towards the double doors. The secretary gave her one last hawkish glare over her gold rimmed glasses as she crossed the threshold.

* * *

 **Saturday September 25** **th** **2004, Yale (Advisor's Office) 9:24 a.m.**

Rory paused as she closed the door behind her. She had been so distracted by her mother's phone call that the magnitude of this meeting with her counsellor had momentarily been momentarily forgotten. But now, faced with reality, she could not escape the overwhelming anxiety that simmered beneath her skin. Nor could she ignore the nausea creeping up her throat.

This was the moment she had dreaded the most over the last week. She would now come face to face with the man who would be responsible for deciding the whole of her future from this point forward. Rory doubted very much she would be asked to leave the school on the grounds of her condition – however, she couldn't help but be anxious as to the reception her news would receive.

Of their own accord, her eyes were immediately drawn to the intricate Victorian desk positioned in front of the large bay windows overlooking the courtyard. Two Elizabethan chairs with red velvet seats stood in front of the desk, vacant for visitors to occupy. Behind the desk Rory espied a large backed leather swivel chair and assumed that the counsellor presently occupied it. From her vantage point she could see neither hide nor hair of the man, and this only served to increase her anxiety all the more. As she slowly made her way towards the imposing desk, Rory felt an unnerving kinship with the wretches of old who had been forced to walk up to the bloody block, and kneel down for the executioner's blade.

As she reached the Elizabethan chairs, the swivel chair behind the desk suddenly turned. Startled, Rory jumped back a step. With her stomach firmly within her throat, she caught her first glimpse of the counselor in question. As the image before her began to register, Rory's surprise eclipsed her anxiety. For before her was seated a young man of no more than twenty-eight years of age, with dark curly brown hair, blue eyes and a dimpled chin. The man, if he were to be categorized, could be labeled as a cute geek, with bow lips and cheeks still filled with baby fat.

All in all, he was the last thing that Rory was expecting to see at the moment. And he was also a far cry from the intimidating, grouchy, stern, old man she had been expecting.

"Rory Gilmore?"

"Yeah," Rory croaked out. "I mean yes, that's me."

"Hello," the young man smiled, looking up from the file laid out on his desk. "My name is Adam Sweets and I was assigned to be your counselor for the year. But you can just call me Sweets if you want. Now, how may I help you? I've been looking over your file and I have noticed that you're journalism major. Do you have any questions concerning advanced classes or interning opportunities?"

"Uh – I – Well –" Rory stuttered, somewhat dumbstruck.

"Oh," Sweets chuckled, "Sorry. I got ahead of myself. Why don't you have a seat and tell me what it is that you wished to talk to me about?"

* * *

 **Posted July 27th 2017**


	9. The Infallible Cookie Monster

I hope you guys enjoy the update. Please tell me what you guys think of the counsellor. I had a specific personality in mind for that particular character and I'm aware that he undoubtedly will not be what you all expected. But I just couldn't help myself.

Enjoy and don't forget to review.

P.S: Do tell me what you think of Rory's course load mishap. It is based in fact, as I myself am guilty of having committed the same mistake ; )

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 8: The Infallible Cookie Monster**

* * *

 **Saturday September 25** **th** **2004, Yale (Advisor's Office) 9:28 a.m.**

Rory stared at the counsellor's dimpled smile as she fought against the instinct to flee out of the office's ornately carved doors. She emitted a nervous chuckle before hesitantly shuffling forward. Her movements were stiff and somewhat awkward as she took a seat, placing her messenger bag onto her lap. Rory clutched at the brown corduroy, unconsciously propping it up against her as a shield.

"So?" Sweets prodded, his smile having grown into a full blown grin.

Rory frowned as she realised that the man was amused by her fidgeting. It made her think that, despite the dimpled cheeks, her initial fear of the mysterious figure behind the desk had weight. The man truly was hiding a pair of horns somewhere on his pasty, gangly form…

Rory groaned and shook her head to clear her mind. Distantly, she heard the man chuckle at her antics, but chose to pointedly ignore it. Taking a deep breath, Rory steeled herself for the coming ordeal.

"Something…" Rory began, floundering for a moment, "happened."

A slight frown creased the counsellor's brow, and for the first time the man appeared to be taking the meeting somewhat seriously. "What happened?" Sweets asked.

"I… Well I… You see – urgh!" Rory exclaimed, annoyed at her own inability to form the words.

At her fumbling attempt to address the situation, the small modicum of solemnity in Sweets countenance drained away. With a hint of mischief in his eyes, he brought the meeting back on track. "Look, Miss. Gilmore – should I call you Miss. Gilmore? Or do you prefer Rory? May I call you Rory?" Sweets gestured towards her.

Startled, it took Rory a moment to register what he had asked of her. Once it had, Rory had nodded emphatically, and even managed to eventually croak out, "yes."

His hand still extended towards her, Sweets stared at her for a moment, his lips slowly pursing. It wasn't until she noticed that the man was fighting the instinct to laugh that Rory realised that her answer lacked specificity.

"Yes," Rory squeaked out, propping up at attention. "I mean yes, you can call me Rory."

"Rory," the counsellor intonated, pulling back his hand and brushing it through his hair. Rory could just tell by the way he was biting his lip that he was valiantly attempting to regain some form of decorum.

"Uh-hum," Sweets cleared his throat. "I'm going to take a guess and say that whatever it is that you have to tell me is less tragic than it is embarrassing. Which is good," Sweets smiled. "You had me worried for a moment there," he leaned back into his leather swivel chair. "But I think, in cases like these, it's just best to yank the Band-Aid off. Trust me, whatever it is, it's not as bad as you think. I have students coming to me every other day with some embarrassing little tid-bits," Sweets chuckled. "I remember this one time, a freshman came in to see if I could help him convince the housing admin to relocate him to another dorm because his dorm mate had pulled a prank on him and the poor guy had wound up in the hospital with his hand superglued to his –" Sweets broke off, seemingly realizing that the story at hand might not be altogether proper in the present situation. Not that the man had left much to the imagination by that point, as his right hand was still pointing down towards his lap, leaving Rory with no doubt as to which part of his anatomy the hapless freshman had superglued his hand to.

Noticing that Rory's gaze was trained on his hand, Sweets awkwardly dropped it into his desk. He fidgeted for a moment, before finally deciding to clasp his hands together in front of him on his desk. "So…" Sweets pursed his lips and nodded his head. "As I've said, whatever it is, it won't be the most embarrassing thing I've dealt with before."

"I'm pregnant," Rory deadpanned, "and now I'm wondering what my options are."

A slight frown marred Sweets brow for a moment, and Rory had begun to fidget nervously in her seat once more when he asked, "that's it?"

"What?" Rory startled. "I mean yeah," she nodded her head, "that's it."

Sweets looked down at his desk and fished out a file with her name on it. Rory nervously wrung her hands as he read over her file. Several times the counsellor glanced over the file, and a smile slowly began to tug at his lips. Chortling, Sweets exclaimed, "would you stop? I'm trying to concentrate here and all that twitching you're doing is distracting me. Geez, you would think I was on the verge of kicking you out by the way you're acting."

Startled, Rory's movements halted altogether.

Sweets frowned as he stared at the tense, pale, immobilized form before him for several moments. "Seriously?" Sweets exclaimed, "You can't honestly believe that you would get expelled just because you have a life outside of academia. Granted, you are somewhat younger than the average Yale student in your situation. But still, you're an adult. You can't have honestly believed you'd be expelled?"

Rory slumped down into her chair and released a relieved sigh. For the first time she smiled at the young counsellor before. "Honestly?" Rory chuckled, "No. But a girl can still have her nightmares."

"Yeah," Sweets snorted, "however illogical those nightmares might be."

Rory laughed, "Given that the nightmare in question involved a mob of angry teachers with pitchforks, I think it's safe to say that logic had very little to do with it."

* * *

 **Saturday September 25** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow, (Gilmore Residence) 2:40 p.m.**

For the fourth time in a row, Lorelai caught her keys with her right hand. She was stubbornly tossing them in the air, attempting to pinch the key to front door with her thumb and index finger. Her left arm was laden with paper work and folders pertaining to the Dragonfly Inn. Her mouth, in the meantime was occupied clenching down on the strap of her purse. Most anyone else would have admitted defeat by now, and condescended to unburdening the left arm. But Lorelai, however, was not most anyone, and she refused to give up the fight on the grounds that she really didn't want to have to stoop down twice. As such, when hearing the ruckus at the front door, Rory opened the door to find her disheveled mother cursing around the strap of her swaying purse, closed in fright from having accidentally thrown her keys into her face.

Said keys glittered innocently upon the porch even as Lorelai stomped her right heel upon them in retaliation.

"Mom," Rory sighed and leaned back against the door frame. "I think you can stop now. The keys are dead."

Startled, Lorelai looked up, finally noticing the open door and her spawn standing within. "Ack a do har?" She asked.

"Huh?" Rory frowned.

Rolling her eyes Lorelai repeated, "ack a do har?"

When no answer came forth, Lorelai huffed in exasperation and glared at her daughter. In response, Rory pointed at the purse swinging from her mother's mouth before bending down and retrieving the fallen keys. "Ho," Lorelai intoned before removing the purse strap from her clenched teeth.

Handing over the keys back to her mother, Rory raised an eyebrow as Lorelai worked out the pain in her jaw. "Thank you," Lorelai said as she crossed the threshold, gracelessly setting her pile of paperwork down on the accent table.

"Now," Lorelai said as she smiled widely. "Do you mind telling me what you are doing here? I distinctly remember you telling me, several times I might add, that you wouldn't be back this week-end," her mother chuckled. All in all, it was pretty brave face that her mother managed to put on. Rory, however, could tell that her mom was worried over her unexpected return. Lorelai gave herself away when she asked, "You had your meeting with the counsellor this morning, didn't you?" she smiled nervously. "How did it go?"

Rory smiled, and decided to put her mother out of her misery, "Great, actually."

"Great?" Lorelai repeated, "Really?"

Rory smirked as dropped down onto the couch, "Really."

A relieved smile overtook Lorelai's features as she settled down next to Rory. "So everything's fine then. Your pregnancy won't affect Yale?"

"Well," Rory sighed, "it will. But not as much as I was worried it would. I talked it over with Dr. Sweets, and together, I think we came up with a plan that would minimize the disruption as much as possible."

"Dr. Sweets," Lorelai frowned.

"Yeah, Dr. Sweets," Rory repeated, confused, "my counsellor?"

"Your counsellor is named Dr. _Sweets_?" Lorelai asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Rory confirmed, "and?"

"And? Where did this doctor come from? _Sesame Street_?" Lorelai guffawed. "With a name like that, he might as well be called Dr. Cookie Monster."

Rory grabbed the throw pillow behind her back and threw it at her mother. This only succeeded in setting Lorelai off on a bout of hysterical laughter. After several moments, during which she grew more annoyed by the second, Rory scowled at her mother and said, "Seriously? Can you stop laughing long enough for us to talk? In case you've forgotten, before you became so fixated on my counsellor's stupid name we were kind of discussing the future of my academic career?"

Sobered by the reminder, Lorelai regained a hold of herself. However, that in no way meant she would drop the subject so easily, "So, you and Dr. Cookie Monster came up with a plan?"

Exasperated at her mother's needling, but realising that reprimanding her would be pointless, Rory continued, "Yes, we did."

"So," Lorelai smirked, "what is it?"

"Well," Rory sighed, "the first thing we had to figure out was what my options were for the winter semester."

Lorelai frowned, "The winter semester?"

"Yeah, the winter semester," Rory confirmed, "I'll be due sometime around the beginning of April, which would be perfectly fine, if it weren't for the fact that I'd be giving birth a week or so before finals."

"Oh," Lorelai bit her lip. "So, what kind of options did Dr. Cookie Monster give you?"

Rory rolled her eyes at her mother's euphemism, "He couldn't give me much in the way of options yet. He said that the most practical solution would be for me to take the semester off."

"So you would graduate a semester later than planned," Lorelai frowned. "That's not so bad when you think about it…"

"Not necessarily," Rory smiled. "If I do decide to take the semester off, I could feasibly make up for it by taking on a heavier course load for a few semesters. That way, I could still graduate in June of 2007."

Lorelai grinned at the news, "That would be great, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, it would," Rory sighed, "but I haven't decided what to do yet."

With a furrowed brow, Lorelai asked, "What do you mean? Why not? It sounds like a pretty good plan to me."

"It is," she conceded, "but I'm not sure I could bring myself to take an entire semester off. And, as Dr. Sweets pointed out, it would be a shame for me to lose out on an entire semester, just because I'm due to give birth just before finals. So I asked him if there was another option for me."

"And?" Lorelai prodded.

"After taking a look at my student record and current class schedule, he suggested that, whatever else I decide, I should take on a heavier course load this semester and he would see if any of the English Lit. teachers would be willing to offer me an independent study. That way, I could still feasibly get my full credits for the year without having to worry about going into labour during finals – or having to miss a full semester at Yale."

"Intriguing…" Lorelai pursed her lips in thought. After several moments of silence, her mother began to frown. "Rory?" she asked, "Didn't the academic counsellor in charge of your record last year force you to reduce your course load because he thought it was too much for you?"

Rory bit her lip and avoided looking her mother in the eye, "Yes, he did."

Lorelai's gaze narrowed, "Then why is it that Dr. Cookie Monster thinks it would be a good idea for you to increase your course load _this_ year?"

"Well," Rory fidgeted in her seat, "you see…"

" _Rory,"_ her mother prodded her.

"It's not my fault! I swear!" Rory beseeched petulantly.

"Ro-Ry," Lorelai sing-songed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "My darling spawn, tell mommy what you have done now."

Rory pouted, but didn't try to dissemble. She knew all too well her mother would hold this over her head for years to come. "There were just so many classes! Interesting classes! And quite a few that would only be offered that year, on account of guest lecturers. I didn't want to miss out on the best ones!" Rory exclaimed.

"But, you see," Rory bit her lip and wrangled her hands, "they were all 300 and 400 classes."

"Rory!" Lorelai exclaimed, somewhat slack jawed.

"I didn't think it would matter!" Rory insisted, throwing her arms up in the air. "I honestly thought I could handle it. I wouldn't have done it otherwise."

"Rory," Lorelai laughed, "you know as well as I do that those classes are geared towards junior and senior students. What were you thinking by sitting them in your freshman year?"

"I was thinking that I didn't want to miss out on any great opportunities just because I happened to been a freshman," Rory scowled.

"Doesn't Yale frown on this sort of thing?" Lorelai asked incredulously.

"No, they don't," Rory answered sullenly, to which Lorelai raised an eyebrow. "Okay, fine. They strongly advise against it," she conceded, "but they don't actually stop you from doing it! Besides, all the classes I have sat Yale were 300 or 400 level courses, and the worst grade I got was an _A-_."

Lorelai's gaze narrowed, "After your course load was reduced."

Rory grimaced at the pointed remark, but had no means of contradicting it. It was true, her grades in the first half of the fall semester had averaged at a B before the counsellor had forced her to drop one of her classes. After which, her grades had improved to the point where she was able come out of those classes with one A- and three A's. Despite this, Rory liked to maintain that she was able to handle the more advanced courses – she just wasn't able to handle as many as she could have if she had restricted herself to the 100 and 200 level courses.

Seeing her sulk, Lorelai couldn't help but laugh at the predicament her daughter had found herself in. And although Lorelai was certain that her daughter's fearsome glower was meant to detract her amusement, it only served to send Lorelai into a fit of hysterics.

Having had quite enough of her mother's antics, Rory yanked the throw pillow out of Lorelai's hands and whacked it in the stomach of the laughing fiend. "Could you stop laughing and take this seriously?" Rory reprimanded.

"Maybe," Lorelai chuckled.

Rory's scowl became vehement as she prepared once more to attack her mother with the throw pillow in question. Realizing that her daughter was set to strike, Lorelai raised her hands in surrender and valiantly attempted to calm herself. And save for a few stray chuckles, she mostly succeeded.

"Okay, fine," Lorelai snickered, "I give. Why don't you just tell me what all of this means."

Glaring at her mother, Rory settled down once more. Despite this, he did not, however, relinquish her hold on the throw pillow. As such, Lorelai realised that her daughter had reached her limit, and would undoubtedly attack at the slightest provocation.

"It means," Rory began somewhat peevishly, "that my schedule has changed. Dr. Sweets convinced me to drop the classes that I had picked out in favor of getting the required 100 and 200 level classes out of the way this semester –"

"Hang on," Lorelai interjected, " _the required 100 and 200 level classes_? Are you telling me you set aside the boring required classes in favour of the interesting electives?" she laughed.

In that moment, what bluster Rory had gained evaporated and was swiftly replaced with a grumpy little pout.

Lorelai bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing at the sight.

"As I was saying," Rory grumbled, "I will be focusing on completing the required introductory classes this semester. And given my _stellar_ record with the advanced level classes, Dr. Sweets thought I would easily be able to handle all six of them this semester –"

" _Six!"_ Lorelai exclaimed.

Rory frowned, "Yes, six. So –"

"Rory!" Lorelai chastised, appearing put out for the first time.

"I know okay!" Rory conceded, "You don't need to chew me out. I know that if I had just followed the recommendation I would never have been limited to a four class schedule. Trust me, I get it. Can we just move on now?"

Lorelai sighed, but nodded her head.

"Anyway," Rory continued, "Dr. Sweets signed the necessary permission slip that would allow me to take on all six classes this semester. As such, I would have half of my credits for next semester already completed. Hopefully Dr. Sweets will be able to find a couple of teachers willing to give me an independent study next semester. But if not, at worse I would have to take an extra class for a couple of semesters."

"Okay," Lorelai said, "but what, exactly, would that mean for your schedule? I mean, not that I'm not happy to see you kid, but given that you now have six classes to attend this semester, I'm kind of surprised to see you kid."

"Yeah, I know," Rory conceded, "that's what so ironic about the situation."

"What do you mean," Lorelai frowned.

Rory chuckled, "The one good thing about the boring introductory classes is that they are available as elective for all degrees. Because of this, there are multiple segments offered for each class, all on different days and times, and some are even offered by different teachers. Since there were so many options, Dr. Sweets was able to condense my schedule quite a bit. I now only have classes on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, from nine to twelve in the mornings and one to four in the afternoons. So, despite the fact that I have a heavier course load this semester, my schedule will actually be a lot less hectic."

"So…" Lorelai grinned, "That would mean you would be free to come home on Thursday and wouldn't have to leave until Monday afternoon."

"Yeah, which would be a good thing, since I'll need to find some kind of part time job to pay for things for the baby," Rory answered absentminded.

Lorelai pouted, "I guess. But you should focus on your classes for now. I'll see if there aren't any small jobs you can do around town to earn you some money."

"Okay," Rory conceded.

For several moments all was quiet, both Gilmores absorbed in contemplating the future. Naturally, such a state could not be maintained indefinitely in Lorelai Gilmore's presence.

"What's so funny?" Rory asked as when her mother began to giggle.

Smirking, Lorelai replied, "Dr. Cookie Monster."

* * *

 **Posted August 3rd 2017.**


	10. Everybody Talks

Alright everyone, I thought I should give you guys a fair warning. The next few chapters will be quite heavy on the recapped scenes. I kind of felt it was necessary to keep those bits in order to set the scene a bit. Also, in some cases they contribute to the plot as I add my own pieces here and there. They do, however, encroach on the amount of new material I was able to squeeze into this chapter. I did contemplate posting longer updates to make up for it. But in the end I decided to stick with my set word count in order to keep the ball rolling.

Again, please be sure to review. They motivate me to keep writing and editing this story.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Everybody Talks**

* * *

 **Monday September 27** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow, (Dean & Lindsay's Apartment) 9:02 a.m.**

Lindsay smiled victoriously as she ended the phone call. After her little shopping trip with her mother last Wednesday, Lindsay had decided that she would not wait around for permission from her husband any longer. She was going to get what she wanted, and Dean was going to give it to her whether he wanted to or not.

Not that Dean was liable to be much of a problem anymore. It seemed that he had finally grasped his role in their marriage, and was no longer putting up a fight against her dictates.

Before, he would have picked a fight with her for having bought a sixty dollar crystal vase. Now, he just bit his lip, somewhat disgruntled, but didn't dare say a word against it.

Needless to say, life for Lindsay had been going well as of late – and it was about to get all that much better. She had just now finished making an appointment with a local realtor. Lindsay had hoped to be able to start taking a look at available townhouses that very day, unfortunately the realtor was booked solid until Wednesday morning.

The wait was disappointing. Still, Lindsay couldn't help but feel giddy at the idea of soon owning her very own townhouse!

* * *

 **Wednesday September 29** **th** **2004, Yale (Rory's Dorm) 4:17 p.m.**

Rory grinned as she made her way to her dorm. It was her second day of classes, and she found herself enjoying her new schedule. Granted, the classes themselves weren't as challenging as she had grown used to. However, she found that the content was not as tiresome as she had imagined and the teachers had proved thus far to be intriguing. All in all, her semester seemed to be shaping up a lot better than she could have hoped.

As she entered her dorm, Rory was startled to see the change it had undergone. When she had left for classes this morning, the common room had been a haphazard mess. Rory had been much too preoccupied with the great matter last week to do much more than unpack a small bag of clothes and open a box of books. Everything else had remained pretty much as the movers had left them. The furniture had been randomly placed and the boxes were piled her and there about the room. Now, as Rory entered the room, she found that the boxes had been cleared, the furniture placed and the room decorated.

"Wow," she breathed out.

Her wonder, however, was short lived. And in one awful moment, Rory couldn't help but wonder if her grandmother had once more taken initiative, and had sent a maid to clean her dorm. Thankfully that horrifying fear was swiftly assuaged as Paris exited her bedroom.

Rory had less than a moment to realise that Paris had organize the room for them before the blonde began justifying herself, "I moved some things around. I also switched our rooms. Now, mine may seem bigger, but yours gets less sun, so you don't have to worry about melanoma."

Rory tried not to snort at Paris' abrupt and self-serving nature. She really shouldn't be surprised that Paris had seen fit to displace her from her bedroom because it suited her. In a weird way, Paris' latest antic comforted Rory. It made her feel as if nothing had truly changed, as if they would go on as they always had.

But that wasn't the reality, was it?

The truth was everything had changed. And whether or not Rory had yet to fully come to terms with her situation, nothing would change the fact that she had had sex with her married ex-boyfriend, and gotten pregnant as a result. She would be made different by this, and as Rory watched Paris fidget about the room, she realised that Paris had also been made different by Professor Fleming's death.

"Hey," Rory called out awkwardly.

"What?" Paris asked, somewhat demurely.

This, in turn, worried Rory all the more. Typically in emotional situations, Paris didn't take kindly to any kind of concern. Instead, she would be cutting, sarcastic and defensive. Her compliant reaction to prodding did not sit well with Rory at all.

And so, before either one of them quite knew what had happened, Rory had walked up to Paris and pulled her into a hug. "Sorry," Rory said by way of offering her condolences.

Instead of pulling away from the embrace as Rory had expected, Paris simply sagged down into the hug, and mumbled, "Thanks."

Rory sighed, "So, how are you holding up."

At the question, Paris pulled away from Rory and began fussing about the room. Picking a framed portrait, she hung it up on the wall, and adjusted it. Once the task was completed, Paris proceeded to fiddle around with a vase, moving it a quarter of an inch to the left, before moving it half an inch to the right. Throughout Paris' fussing, Rory remained silent, regarding her friend with growing concern.

After several minutes, the blonde seemed to realise that she could no longer avoid the question. "I'm fine," Paris stated firmly, "I'm actually relieved to be anywhere that people aren't arguing over the first-edition Faulkner's. His granddaughter Sarah is the worst. If she thought the urn was worth anything, she would have stuffed it in her purse."

Rory bit her lip and hesitated in replying. She could tell that Paris was simply putting on a brave face, and she wasn't quite sure how to address the issue without setting off her friend. Finally she settled on, "You know Paris, you don't have to take care of all this. It's not up to you."

"I know," Paris sighed, "It's just I want his memory to be respected."

"It will be," Rory placated, though in truth, she had her doubts, the fiasco with the betting pool weighing heavily on her mind.

"I still can't believe he's gone. He left me his manuscripts," Paris smiled.

"Wow," Rory uttered, awed. It comforted her to know that Paris at least had that much. After all, if Professor Fleming cared for Paris enough to put her in his will, it at least confirmed that he didn't think of her along the same line as his typical student flings.

"Yeah," Paris laughed, "If Sarah finds out, it's going to be the mountain girl trial all over again."

Paris shook her head derisively, lost in her own thoughts for several moments. "Listen," she began quietly, "I want to have a wake."

Startled, Rory asked, "A What?"

"A wake," Paris repeated, "in Asher's honour."

Rory frowned, a tad confused until the blonde clarified, " _Here_ ," Paris indicated their dorm, "we'll give others the chance to pay their respects, to say goodbye. People are going to want this closure. I just think it's the right thing to do."

Rory wasn't convinced that anyone else but Paris would want as much closure, but she couldn't bring herself to tell her friend as much. So instead, she went along with it, "Sure," Rory conceded.

Paris gave her relieved smile, "Thank you."

For a moment, Rory honestly believed that Paris would walk up to her and give her a hug. That moment, however, was quickly broken by the sound of Paris' cell phone ringing loudly in the background. Rory figured it was someone calling her in concern to funeral arrangements. Her theory was quickly proven right when Paris answered the call.

"Hello," the blonde greeted, "Larry… Larry, _no_!" Paris exclaimed, exasperated, "I'm sorry. Did you take the bar or just hang out in one?"

Rory watched her friend stalk off into her re-appropriated bedroom, and Rory couldn't help but chuckle.

Things had changed it was true, and nothing would be the same ever again. Still, Rory couldn't help but think that somehow, they would both come out on the other side intact, if not unscathed.

* * *

 **Thursday September 30** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 7:56 a.m.**

It was too early for this, Lorelai thought as she rushed to the phone. The day yet to even really start, and already she was wishing she could just snuggle back down into bed with Luke. The morning had been awkward and would have been completely avoidable if she wasn't such a java junkie. But it was too late to do anything about it now.

All she could do was feel betrayed…

 _By coffee_.

Thinking back on it later, Lorelai would firmly blame her blasphemous frame of mind for her complete lack of discretion in answering the blasted phone so early in the morning.

"Hello," Lorelai greeted grumpily, hopping around on foot trying to shove the second foot in a pink polka dot fuzzy sock.

"Hey Lor," Christopher answered happily.

"Christopher?" Lorelai frowned, surprised that the man had called twice in so many days. Typically weeks went by without so much as a peep from his end.

"Yeah," the man chuckled, "I'm glad you answered. I was beginning to think that you were avoiding me too."

"Avoiding you?" Lorelai asked, her frown deepening, "Why would you think that?"

"You never called me back last Saturday," Christopher prodded.

"Yeah…" Lorelai conceded, now firmly mystified, "so?"

"So?" Christopher repeated a tinge of exasperation in his tone, "Rory hasn't called me back yet. Did you forget to talk to her?"

"No, I didn't," Lorelai sighed, "but Rory had a last minute change in her schedule, and has been really busy all week as a result."

Christopher snorted, "A last minute change in schedule? Really, Lor? We both know that Rory never does anything last minute, you could have at least come up with a better excuse."

"For your information Christopher," Lorelai hissed, "Rory changed her schedule at the last minute on the advice of her counsellor, which is why she is currently so busy getting her things in order this week. Now, as much as I've enjoyed this delightful call, I'm really busy at the moment. So, is there anything else, or can I hang up now?"

"Look," Christopher said, exasperated, "I know Rory's probably angry that I missed lunch with her again, but if you could just tell her that it couldn't be avoided, I'm sure she'll understand. It's not like I meant to miss lunch. It's just that Sherry had her heart set on taking Gigi to the Zoo that day, and by the time that I remembered that I was supposed to meet Rory for lunch that day, I had already promised Gigi we would go to the zoo."

Lorelai scowled, "I'm sorry, are you telling me that this wasn't a last minute emergency?"

"No," Christopher confirmed, "why?"

"Why?" Lorelai exhaled angrily, "when did you realise that you wouldn't be able to make your lunch plans with Rory?"

The end of the line went quiet for several seconds, and Lorelai knew all too well Christopher was trying to figure out a way to prevaricate. Annoyed, Lorelai prodded angrily, " _Chris_ -to- _pher_."

"A couple of days before," Christopher admitted mulishly.

"Why didn't you just call Rory and tell her your plans had changed?" Lorelai hissed.

"Look, Lor," he said petulantly, "you just don't understand. I have a two year old daughter to take care of. Gigi's so full of energy that by the end of the day, Sherry and I are just so completely wiped out. It's not my fault that I forgot to call to cancel my plans with Rory."

Lorelai snorted derisively, "Not your fault. I see," her hand tightened around the phone in a vice grip, "goodbye Christopher."

"Lore–" Christopher began angrily, but whatever it was that he meant to say would remain a mystery for now.

Lorelai Gilmore had hung up on him.

* * *

 **Thursday September 30** **th** **2004, New York (Hayden Residence) 8:00 a.m.**

Christopher Hayden scowled as he heard the dial tone.

She had hung up on him.

Lorelai had actually hung up on _him_.

The situation had become ridiculous. His own daughter wouldn't answer his calls, and now the mother of said daughter was throwing a hissy fit. It seemed like he would have to drive down to Yale in order to clear the air. Unfortunately, it would have to wait for a couple of weeks. Gigi had too many important events and recitals coming up that he couldn't miss and his schedule at work at the moment was hectic.

* * *

 **Thursday September 30** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 8:00 a.m.**

All the way in the little town of Stars Hollow, Lorelai Gilmore threw the phone against the couch and watched in satisfaction as it bounced and landed on the floor with a satisfying _thwack_.

She paced the hall for several minutes, attempting to calm her anger. The exercise, however, proved to be to no avail. Finally, she resorted to making her way to the fridge and retrieving a tub of Heavenly Hash ice cream from the freezer and proceeded to eat the whole of it under fifteen minutes flat.

* * *

 **Thursday September 30** **th** **2004, Yale Courtyard (Outside Rory's dorm) 8:19 a.m.**

Rory was rushing through the halls, attempting to put up as many flyers for Professor Fleming's wake as possible. Her first class started in forty minutes and she wanted the job finished before then. Rory wouldn't have the time to post the flyers during lunch, and she planned to drive back to Stars Hollow after her class this afternoon. She knew her mother was anxious for more details on how she was handling her change in schedule, plus they had both wanted to enjoy their last free Friday night before Friday night dinners were reinstated.

After all, Rory had promised herself that she would tell her grandparents the news Friday next. So really, the week-end was their last chance for a drama free fun filled break.

Rory was just about to tack another flyer onto a bulletin board when her cell rang and distracted her from the task. The brunette grinned at seeing the caller ID. Her mom had had her first official date with Luke last night, and Rory was eager for details, "Hi mom," Rory greeted happily, "So? How was it?"

The line was quiet for a moment before her mother replied, "How was what?"

Rory paused, confused, "What do you mean?" she asked, "how was your date?"

"Oh," Lorelai mumbled, "that?"

"Yes," Rory deadpanned, confused.

Her mother sighed, "As much as I would love to rehash my date with you right now, I actually for a more unpleasant reason."

Frowning, Rory asked "Mom, what is it? What's wrong?"

Lorelai sighed, "Your father called. He's not really happy that you haven't called him back yet."

"Oh," Rory whispered, startled to realise that she had forgotten all about him in the crush of changes encompassing her life as of late. "I forgot," she said, "again."

"Yeah, well," her mother grumbled, "as much as I would _love_ for you to keep forgetting him at the moment, I think you should call him back as soon as you can manage. Between all the platitudes and indignation it sounded like he was nearing the end of his rope. You might want to throw him a bone if you don't want him to show up unexpectedly at Yale."

Rory bit her lip. She could tell by the tone of her mother's voice that her dad had upset her someway, which was odd. Christopher's role as her father had been more of a matter of fact rather than practice. Despite this, and her father's many other faults, Lorelai rarely became upset with him. This, more than anything, filled Rory with a sense of foreboding. For if her mother was as upset as Rory believed she was her father must have really done something to piss her off. All of this, however, was not something one could address in the middle of a public hallway with little time on their hands. As such, Rory sighed, and addressed the main issue at hand, "I can't right now. I have to go to class soon, but I'll call him tonight after I get home."

"So, you're still coming home tonight?" Lorelai asked.

"Oh, yeah," Rory smirked, "remember what you promised.

"Got it kid," Lorelai laughed, "one Molly Ringwald marathon coming right up."

"So…" Rory chuckled, "how was the infamous first date?"

"Great," her mother replied brightly, "if you discount the fact that, after staying the night over at Luke's, I made my way down into the dinner early this morning to make myself a cup of coffee."

"And?" Rory asked, puzzled.

Lorelai laughed hollowly, "Did you know that, when Luke decides to sleep in, Caesar opens the dinner at six in the morning?"

Rory's brow furrowed, "Yeah, so?"

"So, I walked down into an opened dinner wearing nothing more than one of Luke's stripped flannel shirts," Lorelai groaned.

"No," Rory exclaimed laughing, "you didn't."

"Oh, but I did," her mother confirmed, "I don't know which of us was more surprised. Me, when I found the dinner occupied. Or Miss. Patty, Babette and Kirk when they saw me standing there, half naked."

"No," Rory laughed, "you got caught by three of the biggest gossips in town."

"Yes, I really did," Lorelai grumbled.

* * *

 **Thursday September 30** **th** **2004, Yale Courtyard (Outside Rory's dorm) 4:24 p.m.**

Rory rushed towards her dorm, eager to get her laundry bag and make it out to her car for the long drive home. In her excitement, she had all but forgotten about her roommates' emotional crisis. But when she unlocked the door to find Paris sitting in an armchair smoking a pipe, the situation was blatantly brought to her attention once more.

"I just wanted to smell like him again," stated bluntly, clearly unconcerned that she was presently filling their dorm with the nauseating smell. Sighing, Rory walked up towards Paris and put her arm around her in a bit to comfort the blonde. As Paris continued to smoke the pipe, the disgusting scent it emitted wafted up Rory's nose, and despite her best attempts to ignore it, it got the better of her after a couple of minutes. Before she can even offer up some form of platitude to Paris, she found herself having to rush to the bathroom.

Once her stomach was emptied, she flushed and shakily stood up. A bout of dizziness affected her, and it took Rory a moment to realise that Paris stood before her, concern written upon her features.

"Are you sick," the blonde asked.

Rory sighed. She had hoped to delay this conversation for another week. But it didn't seem as if the fates were on her side today. She exited the bathroom and indicated to Paris that should take a seat. Frowning, the blonde complied as Rory steeled herself for the coming conversation.

"Paris," Rory tentatively began, "there's something I need to tell you."

* * *

 **Posted August 12 2017**


	11. The Wake & The Gavel

Sorry guys, I'm a bit late on the update this week too. Still, I hope you guys enjoy it. In other news, anyone else anxious to see this eclipse?

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 10: The Wake and the Gavel**

* * *

 **Friday October 1** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 11:34 a.m.**

Lindsay hummed as she climbed up the stairs, arms laden with shopping bags. Normally, she would be annoyed at this time, having to climb up two flights of stairs simply to reach her apartment door. Today, however, not even such a tedious and cumbersome task could anger her.

She had done it!

Lindsay had found the perfect little townhouse! It had three bedrooms, and two bathrooms. The master-suite was spacious and included an in-suite bathroom, which featured a large claw foot bathtub and a stand-in-shower. The dining room would need a bit of work, but Lindsay was convinced she could have it prepared in time for a formal dinner party for Thanksgiving.

Just the thought made her sigh.

This year, Lindsay would spend her first holidays in her very own townhouse! She simply couldn't wait! Of course, they would have to redecorate and new furniture and appliances would have to buy before then. To that end, she had called her mother and the two had planned to do some window shopping over the week-end. Lindsay had already decided that she wanted all the latest appliances and the most fashionable furniture. There was no way in hell she would mar her enjoying of having earned a townhouse with basic appliances and Ikea bought furniture.

Everything would be perfect!

Lindsay sighed as she unlocked the front door of her apartment. Strutting towards the small living room, which also doubled as a dining room and kitchen, she deposited her shopping bags on a rickety old table. Without bothering to put away the groceries first, Lindsay proceeded to riffle through the bag until she found the carton of Ben & Jerry's ice cream she had bought.

Smiling, she retrieved a spoon and settled down on the couch for a lazy afternoon. She had made quite a mess of the apartment since Dean had left for work this morning, but it didn't concern her all that much. Her husband, after all, would clean after returning home from his twelve hour shift at the construction site. For now, all that Lindsay would concern herself with was her own satisfaction.

Pulling out the deed from her purse, she gloated as she dug into her Cherry Garcia ice cream.

All that was left for her to do was to present Dean with the deed for him to sign it on their anniversary. And then, she could really start living as she was meant to.

Lindsay giggled and licked her spoon clean.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Hartford (Gilmore Mansion) 7:26 p.m.**

Emily Gilmore sat rigidly at the head of her empty dining room table. Alone once again, she attempted to drown out the sound of the overbearing silence with the dulcet tones of Tony Bennet signing in the background. The method, however, proved to be lacking, as it only brought into harsh reality the sound of her lone cutlery as she diligently set about eating her dinner. Unable to support the humiliating experience any longer on this night, Emily dapped her mouth with an expensive cream coloured linen, and called out to her new house maid, "Madonna Louise?"

As a well-trained dog, Madonna Louise rushed out from the kitchen and quickly set about clearing the table. "Can I get you some dessert, Mrs. Gilmore?" she asked, eager to see to her mistress' needs in fear of losing her post like so many others before her.

Emily shook her head, "No, thank you."

"Very good, Mrs. Gilmore," she attempted to smile.

"And don't run the dishwasher. It's not full," Emily ordered.

"I won't, Mrs. Gilmore," the maid's smile became strained.

Frowning, the Gilmore matriarch said, "I smelled something funny earlier in the northeast corner of the kitchen."

Nervous, Madonna Louise answered, "I sprayed for ants this afternoon."

"Oh, Madonna Louise," Emily bemoaned, "I told you never spray that poison all over the place. You simply have to kill the scout ants so they don't go back and tell the rest of them where the food is."

"I know Mrs. Gilmore," she bit her lip.

"You kill the scouts, or you use the chalk that we bought in Chinatown last month," Emily continued.

"Okay, Mrs. Gilmore," Madonna Louise confirmed, near tears.

As the maid prepared to leave the dining room, Emily called out, "Madonna Louise?"

"Yes, Mrs. Gilmore?" she answered, fidgeting.

Emily smiled reassuringly, "It was a lovely omelette."

Beaming, Madonna Louise thanked her as she exited the room.

Left with nothing else to occupy her, Emily Gilmore rose from her seat and blew out the candles on the dining table. Walking into the sitting room, she fidgeted about for several moments, even taking up a book at one point, but quickly became unsatisfied with her evening. She was just about to retire for the night when, upon reaching the staircase, a noise attracts her attention to the front window.

There, Emily Gilmore is startled by what she witnesses.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Town Square) 7:57 p.m.**

"How did I get rooked into this?" Luke groaned as Lorelai dragged him towards Miss. Patty's.

"Uh," Lorelai fluttered her eyelashes, "I'm irresistible?"

"Yeah," Luke rolled his eyes, "well, have I mentioned I hate town meetings?"

Lorelai laughed, "No. I thought you said you hate clown bleedings, which I totally agree with."

"Oh, no," Luke groaned, "is tonight raffle night? I can't deal with raffle night," he complained.

"No, it's not raffle night," Lorelai sighed. "Look, I promise we won't stay for the whole thing. It'll be like a stop by. We'll just run in and get the headlines so I have something to tell Rory, and then we're off to the movie."

Luke shook his head, "Do not get used to me going to these town things. Just because you like them does not mean that I will ever like them or tolerate them or go to them."

"Hmm," Lorelai smirked, "Other than tonight?"

"Yes, other than tonight," he confirmed.

"And next Thursday," Lorelai replied laughingly.

"I did not say I would go next Thursday," Luke protested as Lorelai's cell phone began the ring. Frowning, he exclaimed, "What the hell is next Thursday?"

Grinning, Lorelai answers the call without checking the caller ID, "Hello?"

"Lorelai? Oh, thank God I found you," Emily Gilmore exclaimed on the other end of the line.

Her brow furrowing in abject horror, Lorelai curses herself and mouths the words _my mother_ to a curious Luke. Pointing an accusing finger at Luke, she answers, "Hi, Mom."

"The most bizarre thing has happened," Emily laughs, "at 7:30 at night, I had just finished my dinner. I was about to go upstairs and read, and I suddenly heard a car."

"Uh-huh," Lorelai nods along, bored.

"I ran to the window just in time to see your father driving away. He was driving away at 7:30 at night," she all but bellowed.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Yale (Rory's dorm) 8:02 p.m.**

"Thank you for coming. Please feel free to take a book," Paris states as she greets two men at the door. Their dorm is crowded. Every which way Rory looks, she sees people lounging around, talking, laughing and drinking beer. The entire scene was somewhat off-putting to Rory. For as all these strangers were just messing around and having a good time, they were surrounded by copies of Asher Fleming's books and inordinate amount of macaroni art. Under different circumstances, Rory might have been able to take it all in stride. However, having known Paris as long as she had, Rory understood that the blonde had a tendency of throwing herself into various projects when emotionally jarred. As such, Rory was all too aware that, although the wake had been Paris' response to her boyfriend's death, the macaroni art had everything to do with her pregnancy.

It was how Paris processed information. And by the looks of common room of their dorm, Paris had been processing – a lot.

Rory just hoped that she would be ready to talk soon. After she had broken the news, Paris had stalked off, not wanting to speak to her at that time. Unable to do anything else, Rory had returned to Stars Hollow for some much needed mother-daughter time. She had just returned to the dorm a couple of hours ago, and had barely had a chance to unpack and greet Paris before people had begun to invade their dorm.

Rory couldn't help but be worried about how Paris was taking the news. If it weren't for the fact that Paris was terrible at hiding her emotions, Rory would wonder whether or not her friend was angry at her. As it was, Paris appeared preoccupied, but not overly wrathful. As such, Rory liked her chances of escaping an angry confrontation.

"Hey," a man said, walking up behind Rory.

Startled, Rory jumps back. She lets out a relieved smile as she recognises Marty, "Hi."

Marty looks around the room, "interesting crowd," he says.

"Yeah," Rory laughs, "most of the people have no idea they're at a wake. They think it's some weird theme party. I've spent the entire evening trying to get people to stop referring to Asher as _the old dead dude._ "

"Does Paris know?" he asks, frowning.

"Paris, thank goodness, is Paris," Rory shrugs her shoulders and Marty can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Noticing Paris advancing towards them, Rory slaps Marty on the right arm to get him to stop laughing. Her intervention proved to be quite timely, for just as Marty succeeded in swallowing down his amusement, Paris had reached them. "Hi, Marty," the blonde greeted him, "thank you for coming. Please help yourself to a book."

Nodding his head towards the crowd, Marty and says to Paris, "The wake seems to be going well."

"It is," the blonde happily agrees, "I'm very pleased with the turnout. I mean, I knew he was beloved, but this is overwhelming."

Rory's eyes widened as she noticed two frat boys dragging a keg into the room. With an awkward jerk and stretch she succeeds in catching Marty's attention. Taking a look around and noticing the disaster in progress, Marty quickly excuses himself and intercedes before Paris can take note of the debacle.

"You know," Paris laughs, "it's funny, but Asher died right at the height of my passion for him. I kind of wonder what would have happened if he had lived. Would I have stayed in love with him forever?"

Rory sighed, "I don't know."

"He died before I could find out. Now I'll always be in love with him. He's my Mike Todd," Paris stated sadly.

Rory attempts to console Paris with a hug, but it proves ineffective. After a moment, the blonde shrugs her off and looks about the room, her gaze losing focus as she becomes lost in a memory. Several minutes pass in silence, both girls contemplating the big changes that are currently taking over their lives.

"So," Paris eventually breaks the silence, "How are you feeling?"

The question confuses Rory for a moment, and it isn't until prods further that she realises that they were well and truly about to have _that_ conversation right there in the middle of Asher Fleming's wake, "You're not feeling nauseous are you?"

"No," Rory smiles, "I'm not nauseas."

"Maybe you should go to bed. It's getting pretty late," Paris continues, biting her lip.

Rory laughs, "How? We have half of our floor milling about our dorm room right now. Besides, it's actually pretty early still. I might be a bit tired – but I'm not that tired."

Paris frowns and stares down at Rory's stomach for several moments. Her gaze is so focused and mystified that if makes Rory feel somewhat uncomfortable, and she begins to fidget about. Out of the blue, Paris asks, "Did Jess come back?"

"What?" Rory exclaims, incredulous. " _No._ Why?"

Rory looks at Paris, frowning. It takes her a moment to notice that Paris is still firmly staring down at her stomach. In second moment, realisation dawns and Rory intercedes, "Jess isn't the father."

That one statement breaks Paris' focus on Rory's stomach. The blonde looks up, startled, "But that doesn't make any sense. The only other guy you've dated is –" Paris cuts herself off, eyes widening, " _Dean_?" she exclaims.

Rory grimaces at the high pitch of Paris' voice, but nods her head in confirmation all the same.

Paris gapes at her, " _Dean_ ," she repeats incredulously, "but isn't he married?"

Rory takes a deep breath, "Yep."

"And you two…" Paris asks, her features contorted.

"Yes," Rory confirms shortly, "Yes we did."

"Wow," Paris let's out, stunned at the revelation.

"It's just something that happened, okay?" Rory fidgets about, uncomfortable with the subject at hand, "it wasn't planned, and it just happened. Believe me, it won't ever happen again."

Paris stutters a few times as she attempts to form an intelligent response, "Does he – I mean, does he _know_?"

Rory lets an uncomfortable laugh, "No. He won't know," she bites her lip, "at least, not for a while still."

Paris is silent for a minute, before she displays an overwhelming amount of insight, "Too much drama?"

Rory sighed, relieved that she might not need to defend her decision once more, "Something like that."

"Understandable," Paris conceded.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Miss. Patty's Dance Studio) 8:42 p.m.**

Luke watched in disbelief as Lorelai began chewing on her fourth red vine, "We're going to dinner after the movie."

"I know," Lorelai confirms as she tears off a large piece of the red candy. Luke shakes his head, gobsmacked, and turns his attention back towards the town meeting unfolding in front of him.

Standing behind the podium, Taylor raises his gavel and waves it at the crowd. "All those who think Andrew was in the wrong, raise your arms," he takes a quick count, "and all those who think that Gypsy was at fault, raise your arms."

As the greater part of the room raised the arms, Taylor forwent counting them, "The majority rules. Gypsy is at fault for the fender bender outside the Stars Hollow Garden Center and shall be responsible for all said damages."

"Ha!" Gypsy exclaimed angrily, "We have got to get a courthouse in this town!"

Before Gypsy could begin complaining about the unfairness of it all, as she typically did whenever the proceeding did not go to her liking, Taylor cut in, "All right, let's move on to the next order of business, hmm?"

A general murmur of consensus was heard about the room and Taylor looked down at his papers, "A very serious matter has been brought to our attention, and I would like to bring to the floor for discussion the possible negative ramifications of the inn owner and diner owner dating."

Startled, Lorelai dropped her red vine, "That's us."

"They're talking about us," Luke scowled.

"Now," Taylor cleared his throat, "as you all know, the relationship we have feared for some time has emerged, and we need to carefully consider whether or not we can support this."

Lorelai gaped in disbelief at the proceedings, "Oh. My. _God_."

Infuriated, Luke stood up and shouted, "We're sitting right here!"

"Yes, yes, we see you Luke," Taylor answered, unperturbed, "and, as a member of the town, you are welcome to voice your opinion."

If looks could kill, Taylor would have died from the sheer animosity radiating from Luke's glare in that moment, "Voice my–"

But as it was, Taylor remained unmoved, "I open the floor up for discussion."

As the crowd murmurs amongst themselves, Taylor ignores several raised hand in favour of airing his own grievances first, "All right. I'll start," he begins, making it sound as if he had been the sole volunteer, "Luke's Diner is a staple in this town. Most of us eat there on a regular basis. The Dragonfly Inn, though newer than Luke's Diner, has also become very important in our community. The co-mingling of the owners of these two establishments can only set the stage for disaster."

Luke and Lorelai shared an incredulous look at Taylor's reasoning. "What the hell is he talking about?" he yelled, face red and arms waving angrily in Taylor's direction.

"Well he's not happy with our co-mingling," Lorelai deadpanned.

"Think of the consequences," Taylor told them, as if it gave him a reasonable justification for the present fiasco, "What will happen when the relationship goes sour, as, let's face it, most of Lorelai's relationships do?"

"Hey!" Lorelai protested indignantly.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Hartford (Highway 40) 8:46 p.m.**

Emily Gilmore scowled as she took the exit off route I-89. She could not believe the gall of that man, out at this time of the night. Lord only knew what he was doing, traipsing about as he was. It irked her that she was altogether clueless of what he was up to. However, she would be damned if he spent the night out while she stayed at home like a good little wife.

"Hello?" Lorelai answered after the seventh ring.

Incensed, Emily did not bother with pleasantries, "Your father came home at 8:30. He went inside the pool house for five minutes, and he got back in his car, and he drove away again."

On the other end of the line, Lorelai sighed. Emily, however, was not paying the least bit of attention, "Mom, this is really not a good –"

"Traipsing all over the place at all hours of the night," she continued, ranting.

"Uh-huh," Lorelai placated, "Mom, where are you? You sound very far away."

"Park Road," she stated, as if the answer needed no explanation.

"Park Road," Lorelai frowned "Why?"

Groaning in frustration, Emily shrilled, "I'm not going to be the one that sits at home alone in the dark like an Italian widow. If he can go out, then I can go out, so I went out."

Hoping to bring the conversation swiftly to an end, Lorelai praised her mother, "Well, good for you."

"I figured I'd have dinner. But then I realised that I already had dinner," she ranted, "But if Richard's having two dinners, then I can have two dinners, so I went to a place I used to eat at when I was in college. And do you know what I found? It's a 'Lube-And-Tune' with an X-rated T-shirt store next door."

"Mom," Lorelai moaned, "this is silly. Why don't you just go home?"

"I'm not going be the first one back," Emily shrieked indignantly

"Well, how long are you going to drive around?" Lorelai asked.

"Until I'm sure your father came home. Let him worry about where I was all night," she answered petulantly.

Lorelai sighed, "Look, I can't talk right now."

"Well, I'm not done," Emily scowled.

"I'll call you later," Lorelai shook her head.

"I could be dead later," she stated dramatically.

Lorelai rolled her eyes, "Call one of your friends."

"No one knows about the separation except you and Rory," Emily whined.

Lorelai groaned, "Well, I'm sorry, Mom. I'm in the middle of something very important."

"Well, this is important, too. Meet me for a coffee," she insisted.

"Mom," the said exasperated, "I can't, and Rory just moved in, and she's at school getting settled, so if you really can't talk to one of your friends, I'm sorry, but we're going have to finish this later."

"Fine," Emily sulked. And to really drive the point home, she hung up with even a word of goodbye to her daughter.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Yale (Rory's Dorm) 9:29 p.m.**

Rory frowned as she tried to think of a way to get people to leave her dorm room. Paris had yet to catch on that others believed the wake to be an oddly themed party and Rory was keen to keep it that way. Unfortunately, even Paris would notice something was off if people insisted on staying past the midnight hour. For now, Rory hoped that they would get bored with the lack of music and keg stands and just move onto the next party on their own.

She was just ruminating on the use of a possible fib when her cell phone rang. Noticing that it was her mother calling, Rory frowned. She was quite sure that her mom had a date with Luke tonight and she couldn't think of a reason why her mother would be calling at this time.

"Hello," she answered the call.

Rory, however, was startled as her mother began to chant rhythmically, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Frowning, Rory asked, "For what?"

The conversation was interrupted, however, as someone called out her name. Startled, Rory turned, and to her great shock, found Emily Gilmore standing in her doorway.

* * *

 **Posted August 21st 2017**


	12. The Breaking Point

**Author's Note:** Okay, so here we are people. This is the last chapter with large chunks of recaps. After this, I promise that, save for a couple of small bits here and there, we are going completely off script.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 11:** **The Breaking Point**

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Yale (Rory's dorm) 9:31 p.m.**

Emily frowned as she looked around the dorm, "What on earth is happening here?"

Rory sighed and rubbed her hand against her, "I have to hang up now," she told her mother over the phone.

"Have I mentioned I'm sorry?" Lorelai repeated once more, wishing that forgiveness would be promptly given.

Forgiveness, however, was beyond Rory's means at the moment. Instead, she offered her mother a curt farewell and turned her attention towards the disaster that was currently frowning distastefully as she looked about Rory's dorm room. Smiling tightly, Rory walked up to her grandmother and gave her a hug, "Well, this is a surprise."

Emily returned the hug and smiled down at Rory, "I simply had to get out of the house and your mother told me you were home, so I thought I'd come by and say hello."

Her grandmother looked about the crowded dorm room in mild distaste. That distaste, however, was soon replaced by confusion, "Why are there pictures of Asher Fleming everywhere?"

Looking around nervously, Rory tucked her arms in around herself, "This is a wake for Professor Fleming. He died."

Rather than appearing saddened by the news, Emily became indignant, "You would think your grandfather could have mentioned that to me, but no. I bet he'll make me go to that insufferable man's funeral, though."

"He was cremated," Rory offered awkwardly.

"Oh, thank God," Emily laughed, relieved.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:47 p.m.**

Dean eyed the pot roast suspiciously.

Since their last fight, Lindsay had gone out of her way to make Dean's life even more miserable then was her want. She no longer even _tried_ to clean up after herself and expected him to give her everything she wanted. It didn't matter if he was tired from a double shift, if Lindsay wanted them to go out, they had to go out. Just as it didn't matter that he had told her time and again to curtail her spending. Just two weeks ago, Lindsay had bought a ridiculously overpriced pink vase, just because she had wanted it.

Dean had hoped that with a bit more time, something – anything really – would change. And it had changed – for the worst.

Lindsay had made it abundantly clear that she no longer cared to even pretend that she valued his opinion. In the past, Dean had quickly become aware that within the confines of their marriage, Lindsay believed herself incapable of being in the wrong. However, until recently, she had at least pretended otherwise. Oh, she had never admitted being in the wrong, for she was incapable of believing such. But she had understood and accepted that _he_ had believed her to be in the wrong and had went along with it to get him to cede the argument in her favor.

However, in the aftermath of their recent fight, Lindsay had abandoned all form of pretext in this, and in many other aspects of their marriage.

It quickly became clear to Dean that, from that moment forward, that Lindsay expected him to work two jobs, clean house, cook and entertain her while she spent her days lazing about and shopping.

So, naturally, when he had arrived home to find his wife had cooked his favorite dinner for him, Dean had worried for what it all meant.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Yale (Rory's dorm) 9:54 p.m.**

"Root beer?" Marty offered, coming up from behind her.

"Yeah," Rory answered, distracted. She had been worried that the night would end in utter disaster when her grandmother had arrived at her dorm unannounced. Unprepared to face the woman, Rory had been apprehensive. However irrational, the young woman couldn't help but worry that her grandmother, if given enough time to examine her, would notice her slightly expanded waistline and correctly deduce the cause. This fear made Rory all the more awkward in the woman's presence; which, in turn, made her worry all the more that the great Emily Gilmore would sense something was amiss.

Thankfully, Rory was saved from the awkward encounter by the unlikeliest of all sources – _Paris Gellar_. In her grief, the blonde had seen Rory's grandmother and in need of some maternal comfort, had fixed upon the woman. Before either Gilmore became aware of the blonde's presence, Paris had rushed forward and enveloped the elder in a crushing hug. Startled and wide eyed, Emily had simply stood stock still for a moment. Eventually, sense had returned, and Emily began to tentatively pat Paris' back in the hope of earning her release. The tactic proved to be double-edged, for although the blonde had released her, she had also begun to eulogise about Asher Fleming. In the end, Paris had burst into sobbing tears and Rory had watched as her grandmother became absorbed in her effort to mollify the young woman.

And in this unlikeliest of fashions, Paris had truly proven to be her savior – an unwitting savior, but a savior nonetheless. Turning her attention towards Marty, Rory realised that Paris had not been the evening's only savior, "Thanks, Marty," Rory smiled, "for everything. You've been such a huge help tonight."

"For you, Rory," Marty said teasingly, " _anything_."

Rory sighed happily as she looked about the room. In that moment, she was content. Despite the fact that she was pregnant, despite the fact that Dean remained ignorant and married, and despite the fact that Paris was currently bawling her eyes out over her dead boyfriend, Rory Gilmore was satisfied. No great catastrophe had befallen upon her head that night, despite her grandmother's unexpected visit. In that, if in nothing else, Rory could be gratified. It was a small thing. And Rory didn't doubt that it would be fleeting, for true happiness seemed quite beyond her grasp at the moment.

Still, she was a Gilmore. And she knew how to take joy in the little moments, even if the big moments weren't all that wonderful.

"Hey, Rory?" Marty asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?" she answered, distracted.

"Do you…" Marty began awkwardly, "I mean, how come you don't have a boyfriend?"

And just like that, what little joy she had gained in the evening flittered away, "What?"

Marty shuffled his feet awkwardly, cheeks tinging red, "I'm just curious. You don't mention anyone. There's no one here you seem to be with, so I was just wondering what the deal was."

"Oh," she stared at Marty dumbfounded, "no."

The man frowned, "No, you don't want to answer _or_ no, you don't have a boyfriend?"

"No," Rory sighed, "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Well," Marty grinned; "since you don't have a boyfriend, would you maybe…" he trailed off, shuffling around nervously.

A large pit began to form in Rory's stomach. The nausea which Paris had been so concerned about only a couple of hours earlier had suddenly reared its ugly head. She had not expected this. It had never once crossed Rory's mind that Marty might want to be more than friends with her. Now, confronted with the reality, Rory couldn't help but think that this revelation could not have come at a worse time.

"Would you like to go out on a date with me," Marty asked, finally blustering up the courage to follow through.

Later, Rory would swear that she had heard a warning bell striking out in the night. In that moment she had known, the evening was about to go horribly wrong. Just how wrong the evening would go, however, Rory had failed to comprehend until it was much too late.

"I can't," Rory answered, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she had even thought them through.

"Okay," he breathed out, obviously hurt. Marty looked around, searching for something, anything that would allow him to quickly extricate himself from this painful, uncomfortable situation.

Her mind finally catching up with the situation, Rory realised how Marty could have taken offence at her answer. "No, Marty," she groaned, biting her lip, "I didn't mean it like that."

Startled, Marty had looked down at her in incredulous anger. His eyes had given away his thoughts. _Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to try to fib her way out of an uncomfortable situation?_ He had been willing to walk away and try to pretend the whole thing had never happened. But as Rory put her hand on his arm and pulled him in closer, Marty realised she had no intention of letting him do so. "Really," he snorted, "then how did you mean it?"

"Look," Rory said, "I swear, it has nothing to do with you. I just can't go on a date with you. Not now."

"Not now?" Marty repeated, incredulous, "what, so, if I wait a few weeks you'll change your mind?"

Rory bit her lip, "No."

"Then, honestly Rory, exactly which part did I misunderstand?" he scowled.

"You're one of my best friends Marty," Rory said, teary eyed.

Marty laughed, bitterly, "Yeah, I'm one of your best friends. I'll just never be your boyfriend, will I?"

"I…" Rory paused, dumbstruck and guilt-ridden. How was it that she had not seen this coming?

"And yet you tell me you can't go out with me _now_ ," he snorted derisively, "why? So you can shove it all aside and hope I forget it?"

"No," blubbered, "Marty, no."

"Then why, Rory? Why would you say you couldn't date me now? When you really meant to say was that you wouldn't date me _ever_?"

"Because…" Rory stumbled for a moment, trying to find a plausible excuse. Marty, however, had had enough of her excuses, and turned to leave. Seeing this, Rory panicked. Before she could even think, the words, "I'm pregnant!" rushed out of her.

Marty startled at the news. As sense returned to Rory, realisation of what she had done dawned. And as Marty turned towards her with a gobsmacked look, horror mounted. In the midst of all of this, the two stood in the crowded room unnoticed by the dozens of strangers milling about the room.

Or at least, _they had_ been unnoticed. But then Rory's grandmother, having come up from behind them, hissed, " _You're what_?"

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 10:13 p.m.**

Lindsay smirked as she watched Dean take a bite out of the plate of pot roast she had made up for him. He appeared hesitant and nervous as he ate. The sight made Lindsay feel like gloating, but she refrained for the moment. After all, if Dean was so anxious over the fact that she had made him a home cooked meal, it could only be because he understood all too well that he didn't deserve any such curtesy from her part.

Lindsay grinned at the idea, certain that it would be but the work of a moment to get Dean to sign the contract.

Dean put his utensils down noisily over his plate and fidgeted nervously, "So, not that I'm not grateful, but I was wondering what all of this was about?"

"Well," Lindsay sighed, "it is our anniversary today."

"Yes," Dean cleared his throat and crossed his arms, "I know."

"And, well… I thought it was high time that we moved forward with our lives. And I believe I have found the perfect way for us to do that," Lindsay leered as she pulled out the contract of sale for her perfect little townhouse.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Yale (Rory's Dorm) 10:19 p.m.**

"What do you mean you're pregnant? You can't be pregnant. _I forbid it!_ " Emily screeched, catching the attention of all and sundry.

The dorm, which had been buzzing with conversation but a second ago, had become eerily silent. In that moment, for the first time that evening, the gathering had truly taken on the guise of a wake.

Rory stared at her grandmother, horrified.

It shouldn't have happened this way. Her grandmother should not have learned about her pregnancy this way. They should've been at the manor, discussing the situation in the privacy of her grandparents' home. Her grandmother should have learned the news in a control setting. Emily Gilmore _should not_ have overheard the news in the middle of a crowded dorm. And she should most definitely not be disintegrating before the very eyes of dozens of strangers, whom now eagerly watched the drama before them unfold.

This was cruel.

Realising her grandmother was winding herself up for a massive confrontation; Rory quickly darted forward and grabbed a hold of her right arm. Ignoring a dumbstruck Marty and a riveted crowd, Rory proceeded to haul her grandmother out of the dorm. The woman had attempted to resist for a moment, anger and disappointment overcoming good sense. A frustrated growl on Rory's part, however, jarred her grandmother into remembering herself. Emily looked about, noticing once more the prying teenagers as she past them by.

The notion that she had become fodder for gossip had struck Emily dumb, and in her stunned state, she became pliable.

Rory sighed as she succeeded in removing them from the crowded dormitory. As she led them out of the hallway and into the courtyard, Rory's thoughts rushed ahead of her. She needed to fix this, to explain, but couldn't think. Every thought kept running into the other, and the longer this went on, the harder it became for her to breathe and the more her eyes stung.

Unfortunately, before Rory could calm herself enough to face the situation, the other shoe dropped.

Emily, upon noticing a distinct lack of prying eyes within their vicinity, regained every ounce of her previous bluster. "Young lady," she glowered, "you had best explain yourself this very instant, or so help me God!"

Having wrenched her arm free of Rory's grasp, the woman stepped back a couple of paces. Crying, Rory reached out to her grandmother, only to be struck to the quick as the woman distanced herself even more. Crossing her arms protectively in front of herself, Rory pleaded, "Look," she sniffled, "I'm sorry you had to find out like this. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. I had everything planned. I was going to tell both you and grandpa at this Friday, I swear. I just needed some time to figure some things out – to make things easier."

"Easier?" Emily shouted, trembling with rage, "easier she says. You're Pregnant. _You're about to become a mother!_ There is nothing in this world that would make that _easier!_ "

Rory cried as her grandmother berated her, "I didn't mean to–"

"Of course you didn't mean to!" Emily shrieked, "you're nineteen years old! You don't mean to do anything," Emily gesticulated wildly about, cursing and shrieking as she went.

Rory wiped her tears away and tried to remember that she shouldn't take anything her grandmother said in this moment to heart. It was the shock talking. Once her grandmother calmed down, they would talk and things would be better. Rory didn't delude herself into thinking that everything would go back to the way it once was. She was all too aware that nothing would ever be the same. But things would get better. Her grandmother wouldn't always be furious with her. Rory had to at least believe that much.

"Who is the father?" Emily demanded, seething.

Startled, Rory took a step and turned her gaze towards the grass beneath her feet.

Sensing weakness, Emily pounced, "Who. Is. The. _Father?_ " she punctuated.

"I can't," Rory whispered, brokenly.

" _You can't?_ " Emily repeated, in disbelief. "What do you mean _you can't_ ," she hissed, "Do you even know?"

Rory painfully gasped and looked her furious grandmother in the eye, "How could you even ask me that?" Rory sobbed, "Of course I know."

"Then who is he?" Emily insisted.

"He…" Rory sobbed, "He isn't – I didn't mean to," she broke down crying.

Emily stared down at her granddaughter as she fell to her knees sobbing, "I can't do this."

"What?" Rory asked, gazing up at her grandmother.

"I _cannot_ and _will_ not do this at the moment," Emily clarifies as she turns to walk away.

"Grandma," Rory sobs out, pleading.

Emily Gilmore, however, is unmoved. She briskly leaves the scene, neither noticing nor caring that she left her broken hearted granddaughter sobbing and vulnerable upon the wet grass.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 10:34 p.m.**

Dean ducked as Lindsay threw a pink, crystal vase at his head. Before the blonde could get a hold of something else to throw at him, he escaped the apartment. As he rushed down the stairs, Dean could hear Lindsay viciously cursing him. The sound of her throwing things about the apartment was also heard for several moments as he exited the building and made his way down the street.

When he arrived to his parent's home, he found his family unsurprised by his arrival. They had expected that the night would end badly again. His mother had even set a plate of dinner aside for him. When he voiced his surprise at this, Clara had snorted and informed him that their mom always set food aside for him, just in case.

Even years later, Dean had never been able to quite forget the way Clara had rolled her eyes and said, "It was just a matter of time before blondie picked a fight again. There's really nothing surprising in _that."_

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 10:38 p.m.**

Lindsay screeched as she picked up Dean's full plate and threw it against the wall. Her tantrum, so far, had cause quite a bit of damage. Many fragile items lay scattered on the floor, broken. Some of the furniture had also sustained damage. Later, when her anger cooled, she would bemoan the loss of so many pretty little things she had convinced Dean to buy her, and vowed to have that no-good husband of hers replace every item with a more expensive, fashionable counterpart.

For now, however, she was too infuriated by Dean's little hissy fit to care about such small items.

 _How dare he?_

How dare her worthless husband, once again, deny her that which was her due. And on their anniversary, no less!

Who was he to deny her _anything?_

The more Lindsay thought about it, the angrier she became.

He had no right!

She wanted a townhouse. She deserved a townhouse. So, he should buy her the damn townhouse she wanted!

Lindsay glared at the unsigned contract. The realtor had told her that the property would not be available for long. Since she was a young wife celebrating her first anniversary, Lindsay had managed to convince the realtor to put a hold on presenting the townhouse to other prospective buyers. The realtor wouldn't be back in town until Thursday morning, but if Lindsay didn't present the woman with a signed contract and cheque then, she might as well kiss her townhouse goodbye.

Lindsay seethed.

 _No._

 _There was no way she was about to let that Neanderthal ruin this for her._

She would deal with Dean's insubordination later.

Right now, however, Lindsay would just have to forge his signature on the contract. It would be so easy. The realtor would never know. As for the cheques, she would just make it out in her name. They did have a joint account at the bank after all.

* * *

 **Posted September 10th 2017**


	13. Midnight Calls

**Author's Note:** Well, here we go people. From this point on, things really start going AU. I would like to thank all of you who have been reading and reviewing this story. Your reviews are what really keep pushing through with the task of editing, re-writing and re-posting this story. So you guys deserve quite a bit of the credit for this story. Thank you.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Midnight Calls**

* * *

 **Tuesday October 5th 2004, Hartford (Gilmore Mansion) 11:54 P.M.**

"MADONNA-LOUISE?" Emily Gilmore shrieked as she exited her car. With a loud bang, she slammed the door of her car shut.

"MADONNA-LOUISE?" she shrieked once more.

Logically, Emily was all too aware that if she continued on in this manner, she would not only wake the neighbors, but would secure herself a visit from the neighborhood watch patrol.

Realistically, however, she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment.

Cursing, she reached the front door of her manor and then proceeded to viciously attack the offending oak door.

"MADONNA-LOUISE?" Emily howled, her face contorted in an ugly scowl, "MADONNA-LOUISE? YOU OPEN THIS DOOR, THIS INSTANT!"

" _MADONNA-LOUISE?_ " she squawked indignantly as her edict was not directly carried out.

Furious, Emily pulled her keys up to the light. Fumbling around, she attempted to pick out the house key from the lot. However, in her agitated state, her hands trembled heavily.

It should thus come as no surprise, that after several moments, Emily Gilmore dropped her keys.

A frustrated screech sounded in the night.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 12:00 A.M.**

Lorelai groaned and shoved her pillow over her head. Valiantly, she attempted to block out the sound of the lunatic knocking at her front door. She didn't know who they were and she didn't care in the least. All Lorelai Gilmore wanted to do was to fall back asleep. There was a shipment due to arrive at the Inn at six in the morning tomorrow, and she would need to be there in order to sign for it.

Lorelai really needed her beauty sleep…

But the idiot knocking at her front door just wouldn't desist.

With a loud, frustrated groan, Lorelai yanked back the bed covers and stood. Scowling, she exited her bedroom and made her way down the stairs.

Murder gleamed in her eyes – for whoever this person pounding at her door was, she was about to _strangle_ them.

No one would blame her. After all, who in their right mind would knock on Lorelai Gilmore's door at midnight when she was expected to rise extremely early the next day?

 _No one._

Or, at least, no one in the least bit familiar with her - which meant, that whoever this idiot was, he or she wasn't a townie.

No one from Stars Hollow would be foolish enough to pull off such a stunt.

The denizens of Stars Hollow might be often times nonsensical – but they were not suicidal or reckless…

Well, most of them weren't. To tell the truth, Lorelai did have her doubts where Kirk was concerned.

Still, whoever was knocking on her door at this ungodly hour couldn't rightly expect to be welcomed with a smile – or to extract themselves from the situation with all their limbs intact? _Could they?_

Lorelai grumbled as she reached the ground floor. Combing her long hair out of her face, Lorelai frowned as she realised her unwanted visitor had moved on from knocking, to pounding furiously at the door. From her place at the foot of the stairs, Lorelai could swear she could hear the hinges wincing from the force of the blows. Worry began to etch itself in her consciousness and the thought of grabbing hold of a hefty object crossed her mind.

"Damn it, Lorelai! Open the damn door!" the visitor yelled.

" _Christopher?_ " Lorelai called out, incredulously.

" _Yes!_ " Christopher exclaimed, frustrated, "now would you open the damn door?"

Lorelai looked at the door, disbelief marking her features. _What in the hell was Christopher doing here? Dropping by at this hour of the night?_

" _Lorelai!_ " he hissed, his fist slamming against the door once more.

"Okay, okay," Lorelai attempted to appease, "calm down, I'm almost at the door."

Quickly making her way to the front entrance, Lorelai grasped the door handle and flicked the lock, "What in the hell are you even doing here at this hour of the night," she asked. "Geez Christopher, the way you were going on, I was getting ready to yank the lamp free of the socket," she stated, exasperated, "you're lucky you decided to say something before then, otherwise you might have met an untimely fate at the end of a monkey lamp."

Before Lorelai could even get a good look at Christopher, the man brushed past her and made his way to her living room.

"Do come in Christopher, I would be delighted for you to visit," Lorelai whispered sarcastically, "it's not like it's the middle of the night or anything."

Lorelai's brow furrowed as she watched Christopher agitatedly pace about the room, "What is this about Christopher?" she asked hesitantly, "whatever it is, couldn't it have at least waited until morning? I don't know what it is you were thinking by rushing here in the middle of the night like this, but I really don't appreciate it."

Christopher scowled and continued to pace the room, heedless of her growing annoyance.

"Is this about the lunch you _forgot_ about a few weeks ago?" Lorelai growled, "Because if it is, I already talked to her about it. If she hasn't called you about it by now, I suggest you let her get over her anger in her own time. You can't just expect Rory to keep forgiving you at every turn without the least bit of effort on your part. You need to learn that Rory is your daughter _every second of every day_ , not just when it is _convenient_ for you."

Despite knowing better, Lorelai couldn't help but hope that something, _anything_ , would finally get through to Christopher. As a teenager, Lorelai had known from the start that Christopher could not handle being a father at that age. That was why she had gone against her parents' wishes and refused to marry Christopher. However, Lorelai had always believed that eventually, Christopher would mature and learn his responsibilities and he had. He had become a wonderful father – just not to Rory.

Christopher, however, seemed to have grown more agitated with every rebuke. His features, which had already been less than amiable, grew livid, "When were you going to tell me?" he demanded.

Defensive, Lorelai crossed her arms in front of her and asked, "When was I going to tell you what?"

Christopher, however, didn't seem to care to clarify himself, "Hell," he cursed, "When was Rory going to tell me?"

Exasperated, Lorelai threw her hands up in the air, "Again, I ask, tell you what?"

Face red, nostrils flaring, Christopher hissed, "When were you going to tell me that I'm about to become a _grandfather_?"

* * *

 **Wednesday October 6** **th** **2004, Hartford (Gilmore Manor) 12:03 A.M.**

Richard Gilmore had been sleeping comfortably within the confines of the pool house, when a deafening screech sounded out in the night.

The poor man had startled awake at the sound.

Sleep clouding his mind, Richard groaned and wondered just how close to the pool house the wretched beast lay dying. For what else but a dying beast could lay claim to such an irksome howl.

 _Poor Richard Gilmore._

The man had no notion that even as he lay in bed contemplating the fate of the unfortunate creature, the beast had descended upon him.

"RICHARD!" an inhuman shriek sounded outside his door.

Frightened, Richard jumped up from bed. In his haste, however, the poor, dear old man stumbled and fell gracelessly to the floor. Thankfully, swathed in numerous blankets and comforters as he had been, Richard landed softly and uninjured.

He was, however, quite disgruntled.

"RICHARD?" his wife screeched, "RICHARD WHERE ARE YOU? _I DEMAND YOU COME TO ME AT ONCE!"_

Scowling, Richard awkwardly regained his footing. For a moment, it seemed as if the bedding which had protected his fall would be the means of felling him once more, but eventually managed to extricate himself. Although he lost any and all claims to grace in the process.

"Emily," he yelled as he made his way towards his bedroom door, "I insist you desist from that awful screeching of yours."

Before Richard could turn the handle, however, the door burst open. Startled, the man narrowly avoided a close examination of the door's wood grain as his wife dashed through the entrance.

"Richard!" Emily glowered at him, "there you are. Where have you been?"

Richard tentatively palpated the tip of his nose, convinced it was scratched, "I was sound asleep in my bed, as is my wont at this time of the night. Now, Emily, if I may be as bold as to enquire, could you possibly inform what this unpleasant visit of yours pertains to? For I tell you now, woman, if this another one of your dramatic little displays, cease and desist at once!"

Insulted, Emily spat, "my _dramatic little displays_? Oh, _you_ ," she hissed, "as if you have any room to talk you old _coot._ "

" _I see,"_ Richard seethed, "if that is the case, then I must ask you to leave at once. I, unlike you, have important business to see to in the morning."

Trembling in rage, Emily jeered, " _Important business?_ Hah!" she sneered, "don't you dare think that, after nearly forty years of marriage, I don't know that the only business you have on Wednesday mornings is at the golf club."

Having reached his limit, Richard scowled at Emily and physically escorted her out of the room.

"What are you doing," she shrieked, "Richard, unhand me!"

"Gladly," he said as he shoved her through the door.

"Richard," Emily hissed as she stumbled forward, "I need to speak with you."

"I am quite sorry my dear, but I fear I am disinclined to comply with your demand at this moment. I have more important matters to attend to at the moment. Matters, which, by the grace of god, have nothing to do with you," he smirked.

" _More important_ ," Emily hissed, "more important than our _pregnant granddaughter_?"

Scowling viciously at her husband's pale face, Emily mocked him, "Yes. I can see that. After all, business has always been much more important to you than family, hasn't it? Yes, I see that once again, you will be of very little use to me in such an _unimportant_ matter."

With a head held high, Emily Gilmore flounced out of the pool house, leaving the broken shell of her husband behind her.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 6:15 A.M.**

Dean punched the snooze button on his alarm clock and flopped back down onto his bed. He sighed and attempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Unwanted, his thoughts drifted back to last night's fiasco.

He should have known from the start that Lindsay would try to bring up that damn townhouse again. She hadn't bothered him their last fight and with her behavior as of late, he should have realised she would expect him to give into her demands this time.

Dean could admit he shared a part of the blame this time around. He had been pre-occupied with his future as of late and had not raised a single objection to Lindsay's outlandish expectations recently. His goal had been to avoid fighting with her long enough to figure out a way to address their situation. And so, he did not object when she failed to clean up after herself. Nor did he object when he arrived home from a fourteen hour shift to find Lindsay disgruntled and lazing about the couch, asking him what he planned on making her for dinner. Nor did he object when she would come home with overpriced Knick knacks.

Dean shook his head and grumbled. In retrospect, it might not have been the best of plans.

 _But still_ – Lindsay had actually gone and seen a realtor without even mentioning it to him. But what had really gotten him mad was that she had actually picked out a townhouse and had expected him to sign the contract on her say so.

For months, Dean had been agonizing over his marriage. He had known since last February that things were not working out with Lindsay – that a divorce had been all but eminent. But he had set aside his own desires for the sake of his parents. They had loved Lindsay and telling them he wanted to divorce her would have devastated them. And so, he had procrastinated, hoping things would either get better, or that he would finally reach the point where he could no longer stand the situation and tell his parents the truth. And then, Rory had happened, and Dean realised that things with Lindsay would never get better. But instead of plucking up the courage to break the news to those he loved, he put it off, using Rory's abrupt trip to Europe as an excuse. And in doing so, he had ruined the one thing that had mattered the most to him – his relationship with.

And through all of this, there stood Lindsay - discontent with every little thing – demanding to be given everything she wanted within a moment's notice – picking a fight whenever things did not go her way, and unwilling to even contribute in the daily tasks or in bettering the state of their marriage.

And then she expected him to sign and pay for a townhouse that he had never even seen, and then had the gall to be angry with him when he patently refused to give into her demand.

And so, it had finally happened.

He had reached that point where he no longer cared if his parents would be devastated.

Dean wanted a divorce.

He _would_ have a divorce.

He needed to do a few things before filing for the papers, things which would make it more difficult for Lindsay to exert her vindictive side. But then he would break the news to his parents and hope they would learn to understand. He had no intention of telling Lindsay his plans. At this point, he realised that an amicable divorce would not be possible, and as Lindsay had gone out of her way to show him that she cared for neither his feelings nor opinions, Dean decided he would not go out of his way to pander to hers.

Lindsay would learn the news when he served her with divorce papers.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 6** **th** **2004, Yale (Rory's dorm) 10:57 a.m.**

Rory all but sobbed as she hid beneath her covers. Someone was knocking at her door. She didn't know who and she didn't want to know. She wanted them gone. Rory couldn't handle anything more today, not after the disaster of all night. She had a class in half an hour, but she planned on skipping it. It made her feel guilty and awful. But Rory knew she wouldn't be able to do anything properly this morning. Her eyes still stung from all the crying she had done over the night and her head was killing her. It would be obvious to anyone who looked at her that she had spent the night bawling her eyes. After all, Rory had no doubt that her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Just as she had no doubt that they would likely remain as such for several hours more.

But someone was at the door…

Knocking.

And they didn't seem to want to stop.

Rory wiped several stray tears away with the back of her hand and burrowed deeper into the covers. She had just decided that she would ignore the person at the door no matter what, when the knocker hesitantly called out, "Rory?"

Rory jumped up at attention, her head bursting from the pillows.

"Rory," Lorelai prodded, "open the door sweetie."

 _Mom…_

Rory tore herself out of bed, the sheets tangling in her legs as she did so. They didn't slow her down, however. She simply crawled free of them and continued to the door. All Rory could focus on was making it to the door so her mom could give her a hug. She didn't even notice that she stumbled and crawled all the way there – she was just concentrated on the door.

As she reached the door, Rory stood tall for the first time that morning. Yanking it open, Lorelai had to pause mid-knock as Rory launched herself in her mother's arms.

"Oh," Lorelai whispered, "Rory."

For her part, Rory crushed her mother in a vice-grip, "Grandma knows," she said tearfully.

Her mother sighed, "Yeah, I gathered."

Looking up at her, Rory asked, "Grandma?"

"No," Lorelai bit her lip, "well, yes. But no."

Rory's brow furrowed, confused.

Lorelai looked around the busy hallway and noticed more than a few curious glances thrown their way. Uncomfortable, she steered her daughter back inside the dorm room and closed the door behind them, "Paris?" she asked.

"Gone," Rory stated, "she has an early morning class on Wednesdays. She did bring me a bagel, though. She realised I wouldn't be leaving the dorm this morning and thought I should have something on hand to eat."

Lorelai chuckled, "Did you eat it?"

Rory's nose scrunched up, "No. It's a raisin bagel."

"Well," Lorelai breathed, "I told Sookie I needed to do something today. She won't expect me back until late this afternoon. We could go grab lunch."

Rory bit her lip, "Chinese?"

Lorelai smiled, "Yeah, Chinese."

Pulling out of the hug, her mother rubbed her arms comfortingly, and brushed her hand through her hair, "Your father paid me a visit last night."

"He did?" Rory frowned.

"Yeah," Lorelai laughed, "he nearly knocked down the door in the process."

Rory rolled her eyes, "Is this because I haven't called him back yet?"

"No," her mother answered, shaking her head, "your grandmother called him."

"Oh," Rory exhaled.

"Yeah, he stormed down to Stars Hollow and all but tried to break into the house at midnight."

"Was he mad," she asked, trying to ignore the sting of tears in her eyes.

Lorelai looked down at Rory, forlorn, "Yeah, he was."

"Oh," Rory looked away and wiped away a couple of tears.

Lorelai stared at the hardwood floor, "He said some things…"

"What?" Rory asked, sniffling.

"Mostly things about me and about…" Lorelai gestured awkwardly at Rory's stomach, "I told him where he could shove it."

Rory nodded her head, dejected.

"So," her mother began hesitantly, "what happened?"

"Marty asked me out on a date," Rory laughed out, sobbing.

"Oh," Lorelai grimaced, startled.

"I told him I couldn't because I was…" Rory floundered.

"Pregnant," Lorelai finished for her.

"Yeah," Rory sighed, "Pregnant. Grandma overheard."

"Yikes," her mother intoned, her eyebrows raised.

The room was silent for several moments. Finally, Rory seemed to pluck up the courage to ask that question which weighed heavily upon their mind, "Did grandma…"

"Call?" Lorelai asked.

"Yeah," Rory nodded her head, "call."

"Yeah, she did," her mother rolled her eyes.

Wiping her face free of tears once more, Rory asked, "What did she say?"

"Your grandparents want us to have dinner on Friday," Lorelai informed her.

"Dinner?" she frowned and took a seat at the couch.

"Yeah, I guess they want to talk about how you're going to deal with all of this," Lorelai sighed and sat down next to Rory.

"Friday?" Rory confirmed.

"Yeah," Lorelai groaned, "Friday."

 **Thursday October 7** **th** **2004** **, Stars Hollow (Doose's Olde Fashioned Soda Shop), 3:12 p.m.**

Lindsay moaned as she took a bite out of her Pink Bubble Gum ice cream. She had decided that she deserved a treat after all that Dean had put her through on their anniversary. Later tonight, she planned on enjoying a night out on the town to celebrate the purchase of her brand new townhouse. She had successfully handed over the contract and cheque to the realtor. As Lindsay had predicted, the realtor hadn't questioned Dean's signature. And so, Lindsay was on the cusp of obtaining everything she deserved.

The blonde just couldn't wait.

The realtor had promised that she could move in just as soon as the papers were filed. In fact, Mrs. Dabbinsky had promised to rush the process, so that she could hand over the keys to Lindsay by Tuesday afternoon at the latest.

Needless to say, Lindsay Lister-Forester was quite satisfied with herself at the moment.

As she prepared to take another bite of her ice cream, Lindsay's cell phone ringed. Taking a glance at the caller ID, Lindsay grinned.

It was Mrs. Dabbinsky!

Oh, this was _perfect_.

She would have Dean begin to pack their things for the move to the townhouse while she was out enjoying herself at the club tonight. And tomorrow, she would go out shopping for new furniture with her mother.

Lindsay smiled as she answered the call, "Hello Mrs. Dabbinsky, that didn't take long did it. So, when should I meet you to pick up the keys?"

As Lindsay listened to what Mrs. Dabbinsky had to tell her, however, Lindsay's angelic smile fell.

"No Mrs. Dabbinsky," Lindsay reinforced, "it must be a mistake. The bank is closed now, but I'll visit them tomorrow morning when they open. The problem will be dealt with. I'm sorry you were so inconvenienced by such an incompetent bank teller. I think I will lodge a complaint. Imagine the bank telling you that my account had been closed. Ridiculous," Lindsay hissed, her grip tightening around her cellphone.

* * *

 **Posted September 18th 2017**


	14. The Cowherderess

**Author's Note:** Well guys, for anyone aware of the Canadian Holiday calendar, you will know that today is Thanksgiving day for me. As such, I have decided to indulge my festive spirit and will be posting two chapters today.

In other news, I'm finally getting a handle on the reviewing and rewriting. So, I'm hopeful that from now on, updates will be regular. I'm hoping to have this story finished and posted for Christmas.

I hope you enjoy the next two chapters – please be sure to review.

Happy Thansgiving!

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 13: The Cowherderess**

* * *

 **Friday October 8** **th** **2004, New Haven (The Hayden's Apartment) 10:51 a.m.**

Christopher yanked at his tie. The damn thing refused to be tied properly.

He didn't have time for this.

Emily and Richard expected him to meet them before Lorelai and Rory arrived at the manor.

He was late.

Sherry sighed and walked up from behind him. She made him turn around to face her as she fixed him tie, "Why are you so tense?"

Christopher looked at Sherry incredulously, "I just found out my nineteen year old daughter is pregnant. Why do you think I'm tense, Sher?"

Sherry rolled her eyes, "Her mother got pregnant at sixteen Chris," she raised an eyebrow, "you can't honestly be surprised."

Christopher scowled and hissed, "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounded like," Sherry bit back, "look Chris, for her whole life, Lorelai was Rory's guiding influence. You shouldn't be surprised that the girl turned out like her mother. I don't understand why you're even bothering with any of this at the moment. We're busy enough as it is with work and Gigi. Let Lorelai take care of this."

"She's my daughter, Sherry," Christopher pushed her hands away and looked at his wife, disgusted.

"A daughter in name only," Sherry insisted, "Lorelai saw to that. You didn't raise her. Your parents have never even met the girl properly. Straub's gotten a glance of her over the years, working on Chilton's Board of Governors, but Francine's never laid eyes on the girl. The way I see it, the girl has nothing to do with us. You should –"

Sherry was cut off by the sound of Gigi crying in her nursery. Christopher glared at her hatefully and Sherry shook her head in disappointment, "Just think about it."

* * *

 **Friday October 8** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow Bank & Loan, 11:39 a.m.**

Lindsay strode determinedly through the door of the Stars Hollow Bank & Loan. She winced at the sound of some brat crying loudly in the background. But she refused to let it deter her. Gingerly, the blonde removed her large sunglasses and squinted at the room.

Originally, Lindsay had meant to be at the bank bright and early. But after yesterday's disappointment, she had overindulged at the club last night. As a result, her head was pounding in her skull, her tongue felt furry and her stomach revolted at most scents.

Needless to say, Lindsay was not in a very forgiving mood. She had already been of a mind to sue this fine establishment for their mishap. Now, in her current state, the outcome was all but guaranteed unless she was given exactly what she wanted promptly.

Striding towards the tellers, she cut ahead of a middle aged man and two teens, "Hey," one of the teenagers squawked indignantly.

Lindsay, naturally, ignored him. Noticing that the teller was about to object to her cut, Lindsay glared down at the small, mousy teller, "Yesterday my realtor attempted to cash in one of my cheques and was mistakenly told that the account had been closed. You are to rectify this mistake and call your manager. Tell him that I expect him to reimburse me for my troubles less he wishes to find himself in court for this nonsense."

The teller gulped and looked apologetically at the individuals standing in line.

"Very well, Miss…" the teller prodded.

"Mrs." Lindsay insisted, "Lister-Forester."

"Do you have your account card," the mousy young woman asked, hesitantly.

Not bothering with pleasantries, Lindsay simply pulled the card out and handed it to the teller. Over the course of the next two minutes, the teller frowned at her computer as Lindsay looked on, glaring. As time passed, the poor mousy young woman began to look increasingly nervous. The blonde, by contrast, grew all the more annoyed.

The teller bit her lip and stared determined at her computer screen. Lindsay, fed up, snapped her fingers in the woman's face. Startled, Elizabeth jumped back, her hand reaching up towards her left eye.

In her zeal, Lindsay had almost poked out the teller's eye. Still, the blonde continued to snap her fingers at the teller, unconcerned by the near injury, "Well," she demanded.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Forester," the teller gulped, keeping her distance, "it seems the account you wish to access was closed."

" _Closed?_ " Lindsay hissed, "how could it be closed? And where is my _money_? There was nearly eight grand in that account!"

"Um," the teller stuttered, "it seems that your husband emptied and closed your joint account just a couple of days ago. I imagine he moved the money to another account."

Lindsay growled, "Very well, then prepare a new cheque book for me. And this time, please make sure that the cheque I give the realtor passes without a problem."

"I…" Elizabeth swallowed, "can't."

Infuriated, Lindsay slammed her hand down against the teller's desk, " _What do you mean, you can't_?"

The teller squeaked and rolled her chair a few inches further out of Lindsay's reach, "I've checked and the only account we have associated with your name was closed Wednesday."

"But you have a second account under my husband's name, don't you?" Lindsay screeched, "the idiot couldn't have just walked out with all that money and left it in our apartment?"

"I'm sorry mam," Elizabeth took a deep breath, "but I cannot confirm the existence of such an account. Our client's privacy is paramount here at Stars Hollow Bank & Loan."

"But it's my _husband's_ account," Lindsay hissed, slamming the desk once more, " _it's my money_."

"I'm sorry mam, but if your husband does have another account with us, you cannot access the account unless he joins your name to it," Elizabeth stated firmly.

* * *

 **Friday October 8** **th** **2004, Hartford (Gilmore Manor) 11:42 a.m.**

Rory stared at the oak door in front of her. For the second time in her life, this particular door appeared daunting. Unlike her mother, Rory's relationship with the elder Gilmores had always been amicable. It had never once crossed her mind that something could ever happen to change this, but it had. Her confrontation with her grandmother last Tuesday had proven as much. And despite her mother's best efforts the following morning, Rory had yet to recover from the experience.

Rory could have used a little bit more time – but her time was up.

She would now have to stand before her grandparents and face judgement. Her mother was currently trying to comfort her, to distract her from the nightmare that awaited her on the other side of the door.

The attempt, however, proved less than effective.

Over the past three days Rory had been plagued by nausea, the likes and strength of which she had never known – not even when she had caught the flu in fifth grade. It was so horribly awful that Rory was convinced the nausea was also making her dizzy and short of breath.

Logically, Rory knew that the stress of this coming meeting was undoubtedly exacerbating her morning sickness, which in turn made her dizzy. After all, Rory found that she could rarely hold down her meals the past few days. As for the shortness of breath… Well, Rory had to wonder if she might not be experiencing some mild panic attacks here and there.

Rory, however, didn't tell her mother any of this. If she had known, Lorelai would have insisted they return home and put off this confrontation for another few days.

Rory didn't want that.

For one, Rory believed that the longer they dragged this out, that the longer they didn't clear the air, the worse everything would become over time. There was just too much at risk – too many relationships would be jeopardized in the equation. Rory realised that now would be the time, perhaps the only time for salvation.

To add to this, Rory doubted very much that her nausea would become more manageable until the gut wrenching encounter took place. And so, Rory stood in front of her grandparents' door, listening to her mother as Lorelai spun a fairy tale, "Once upon a time there was a big house, with thick glass windows and heavy stone walls and a slightly pornographic fountain in the driveway. And all the animals in the forest were scared of the house 'cause they thought that the house was haunted! And so did all the villagers in the small hamlet of Hartfordshire…Ville. _'Maids go in, but they never come out!'_ they would whisper on the street. How are we doing?"

Rory smirked, she really loved her mother sometimes, "Keep going."

"One day a beautiful young cowherderess walked by the house– "

Rory cut her mother off, "Cowherderess?" she enquired, a frown marring her features.

"Hey," Lorelai exclaimed, annoyed, "we could just go in, you know."

"Cowherderess is walking by…" Rory prodded.

Lorelai smirked at her daughter's evasive techniques, "And suddenly she felt the unbearable need for a strand of pearls and a snifter of hundred-year-old Scotch! So, abandoning her cows, she climbed over the high walls and dropped onto the just-redone tiled walkway and rushed toward the enchanted French doors that the Queen had never been happy with because the hardware was not what she had picked and she refused to pay that idiot designer that she hired off of a recommendation and –"

Lorelai stopped herself and shook her head, turning towards Rory she said "Okay, seriously, this didn't work when you were four. I am not sure why you thought it would do any good now."

Rory sighed and looked at her mother pleadingly.

"It's going to be fine," Lorelai placates, but there is a hitch in her voice which tells Rory that her mother is not all that convinced that thing will in fact be _fine_.

Rory ignores the sting in her eyes and bites her "I know," she reinforces.

Putting her arm around Rory, Lorelai smiles encouragingly and leads her to the door, "Come on, my little cowherderess! Do you want to press the bell or should I?"

Taking a deep breath, Rory steps forward to ring the bell. She is stopped, however, as Emily Gilmore opens the door for them. Imperiously, the red-head glares at the two, "Well," she hissed, "are you going to come in? Or are you two going to spend the night outside the door spinning fairy tales?"

Without a second glace, Emily strutted off towards the sitting room. Rory and Lorelai looked at each other, daunted, but followed none the less. As they reached the sitting room, the girls were confronted with a unified front. Emily and Richard Gilmore stood next to the fireplace, drinks in hand, while Christopher Hayden in the nearby armchair.

Eyes widening in anger, Lorelai hissed, "What is Christopher doing here."

Emily simply rolled her eyes, "He is Rory's father Lorelai. Given the circumstance Rory has now found herself in, I believed it was necessary to include him in this discussion. I always told you that a child needs its father. If you had done as I asked and married Christopher all those years ago as you should have, we wouldn't be in this situation today, now would we?"

* * *

 **Friday October 8** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Doose's Market) 11: 54 a.m.**

" _What do you think you are doing_?" Lindsay hissed as she smacked a bag of flour out of Dean's hands.

Dean watched as the bag hit the floor and burst open, sending a cloud of flour up in the air. He glared at his wife, "What the hell Lindsay?"

The blonde, however, was utterly unconcerned by the mess she had made in the market. More than that, she didn't even seem to care that she was making a scene in a public setting. Dean, however, not keen on presenting this little melodrama to the good people of Stars Hollow, quickly grabbed a hold of Lindsay's wrist and dragged her to the backroom. On their way there, they encountered an indignant Taylor. Shamefaced, Dean mouthed an apology to the owner and indicated he would see to the matter in a couple of minutes. Taylor's gaze narrowed angrily on Lindsay, but he nodded his head in understanding.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were closing _our_ account and moving _our_ money into a new one," Lindsay shrieked, "I looked like a fool when I confronted that stupid little mousy teller about their mistake at the bank this morning!"

Dean frowned, he had hoped that Lindsay wouldn't have noticed that yet. When they had married, Dean had opened up a joint account for Lindsay and himself at the Stars Hollow Bank & Loan. At the time, he had planned to transfer his own personal saving into the new account. But things had been so hectic and busy that he had never gotten around to it. And then life with Lindsay had begun to fall apart just before the New Year. By that point, Dean had realised that his new wife was a reckless spender. So much so, that Dean became increasingly convinced that if Lindsay were to have full access to their funds, she would spend it all before they could even hope to buy anything of real value.

As such, he had decided to place the remainder of his funds into a saving account and had told Lindsay as much. At the time, she hadn't cared – not even when he informed her he would be directing a portion of his paycheck to the savings account. Thinking back on it now, Dean figured that Lindsay had assumed that the amount placed into the account had been negligible at best – and as such, not worth her notice.

This turned out to work out in Dean's favor - for despite the fact that all of their living expenses were paid through the savings account, their joint account retained but a fraction of the money the savings account did. What Dean had spent in rent, utilities and food, Lindsay had exceeded in clothes, spa outings and pricy baubles.

"You know what," Lindsay scowled and threw her hands up in the air, "we'll discuss this latest little mishap later. Right now, I need you to pull out your cheque book and make one out for five thousand dollars."

"What," Dean asked, incredulous.

"I know," Lindsay hissed, frustrated, "that stupid teller at the bank wouldn't make me a new cheque book for our new account – even though I told her that you were my _husband_ and the money was _mine._ "

"No," Dean glared at her, "why do you need me to make out a cheque for five thousand dollars."

Lindsay looked at him condescendingly, "For a down payment on the town house I want," she said, as if he was the biggest idiot in the world.

" _The town house_?" Dean hissed, "Lindsay, I told you I wasn't going to buy a town house any time soon."

"Yes, well," the blonde harrumphed, "I decided that you were being an idiot. Now," rolling her eyes, she snapped her fingers at him, "chop, chop."

Dean looked down at his wife in utter disbelief. She really did think that despite what he had repeatedly told her, he would just do as she demanded and write the cheque out right now in front of her. Disgust curled at his lip, "No, Lindsay. I'm not writing you out a cheque."

Dean's head veered back violently as Lindsay struck him across the face, " _Yes, you will_ ," the blonde hissed. Jabbing her finger against his chest, his wife berated him, "Now you listen here, Dean Forester. I have put up with just about enough from you. You will make up that cheque and you will make it up right this instant. The realtor, Mrs. Dabbinsky, is waiting right this minute for that cheque in order to finalize the paper work. I will not have you mess this up for me just because you're being a witless jerk."

"The realtor?" Dean asked, confused and rubbing his hand across his stinging cheek.

"Yes, you nitwit," his wife shrieked, " _the realtor_."

"Lindsay," Dean spat, furious, "how is it that the realtor could be in the process of finalizing the paper work when I never even signed the contract?"

Lindsay, rather than being worried in the least, admitted her fraud, "You were being an idiot," she shrugged, "so I signed the papers for you. _Now,"_ Lindsay snapped her fingers again, "write up the damn cheque."

"You signed my name…" Dean repeated, incredulous.

"Yes, Dean, I signed your name," Lindsay confirmed, "geez, get with the program already."

"Get out," Dean yelled.

"But you haven't written the cheque yet!" Lindsay shrieked.

"I told you," he roared, " _I'm not writing the damn cheque_."

Lindsay looked at him, trembling with rage, "You better, Dean Forester. Or I swear…"

"Out!" Dean took a few steps back, putting some distance between the two of them. The urge to throttle her was too strong to chance it at the moment.

The blonde looked at him as if he were a piece of gum stuck to her shoe, "Mrs. Dabbinsky will be waiting at the Soda Shop at one in the afternoon. You better be there to meet her with the cheque," Lindsay insisted, "once that's done, be sure to go to the bank and fix this whole mess. I realise that the Stars Hollow Bank & Loan will be closed in a couple of minutes, so I won't expect this mess to be sorted out until next week. But I warn you, I've had enough of your little tantrums. You better fix all this and fix it quickly. Do not come back to the apartment until I call you. _Understood?_ "

* * *

 **Friday October 8** **th** **2004, Hartford (Gilmore Manor) 12:17 p.m.**

"So," Richard Gilmore began, "if I have understood you correctly, you will still be attending Yale."

Rory looked up her plate of chicken parmesan, "Yes. My counsellor, Dr. Sweets, has me taking a heavier course load this semester. He even got me an independent study course with Professor Williams next semester. There are few more options he is looking into, but the objective would be for me to complete my credits for the years while leaving my schedule flexible for the Winter semester."

Christopher snorted, "You're about to have a baby. I think we can all pretty much agree your schedule will not be flexible for the next eighteen years."

Rory bit her lip and turned her gaze back down towards her plate. Lorelai meanwhile, stabbed at her chicken and glared at Christopher throughout the process. It was clear, to one and all, that her mother was imagining Christopher face as she attacked her meal.

"Good," Richard replied, ignoring Christopher's dig, "good."

Rory closed her eyes and tried not to cry. She should be thankful that things were proceeding so civilly now. When they had arrived and her mother had clashed eyes with her father, Rory had honestly believed that she would have strangled him if given the opportunity. It made Rory wonder what is was exactly that Christopher had told her mother that had upset her that much. Rory had asked about the confrontation between the two on Wednesday, but her mother hadn't been willing to elaborate that much. And in her state, Rory hadn't felt up to prying.

Lorelai Gilmore had a knack for keeping secrets when she wanted to, and Rory hadn't had the energy to contradict her that day.

However, given the tense atmosphere, Rory now wondered whether she should have insisted on knowing the details.

"And the…" Emily began, "child," she finished, wincing, "how is it?"

Rory swallowed a bite of chicken and cleared her throat, "I found out about a month ago, so there isn't much to know yet. They gave me vitamins when the doctor confirmed my pregnancy. Other than that, I just had my first visit with the OB last Tuesday. She didn't do much, just take a couple of vials of blood for tests. If anything's wrong, she'll call me. Otherwise, I won't see her again until November."

Rory bit her lip and hesitated before saying, "I am looking forward to that, though. Dr. Summers said I would be getting my first ultrasound then."

"So soon?" Emily asked, smiling tightly.

"Yes," Rory confirmed, ducking her head down once more. She did not, however, miss the way her father's fist tightened at the news or the way her grandfather paled.

"How about these carrots?" Lorelai interjected, trying to lighten the mood, "they're all so tiny. You would think they had been grown for hobbits to eat –"

" _Lorelai_ ," Emily hissed, cutting her daughter off.

"No," her mother grinned, "don't tell me, they really _were_ grown for hobbits. Is Frodo or Bilbo expected soon?"

Rory couldn't help the smile that creeped up even as her mother and grandmother glared at each other. Grandpa, by contrast, simply blinked, dumbfounded. It was apparent that he understood the reference, but it didn't seem like he knew quite what to do with it under the circumstances. For the first time this past hour, Rory the tension in her shoulders reduce. It didn't dissipate, nor did the nausea bubbling up her throat, but it didn't feel as pressing as it had a few moments ago.

Then Christopher threw down his fork loudly against his plate and sat back, crossing his arms. Rory glanced up and saw her father glowering at her from his seat across the table. As his gaze strayed towards her mother, Rory noticed that his expressing morphed into exasperation, fury and even a tinge of hatred.

Startled, Rory folded in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. She had never seen such an expression on her father's face before.

It disturbed her.

* * *

 **Friday October 8** **th** **2004, Hartford (Gilmore Manor) 12:23 p.m.**

"And the father?" Emily asked.

Startled, Rory looked up at her grandmother. Despite the all-important question, the woman was studiously focused upon her dinner. It didn't take Rory long to realise that her grandmother was not about to apologise for the outrageous accusations she had flung about last Tuesday. Instead, it seemed that the woman was content to overlook the scene and simply pretend she had done nothing worth admonishing.

Concerned only with mending bridges, Rory decided to follow her grandmother's example. Although the notion that her grandmother wouldn't even deign to take the words back stung, "He's not in the picture."

And so, silence descended upon the dinner table.

Chancing a look at her mother, Rory noticed that for the first time that evening, her mother had stopped glaring at Christopher long enough to appear nervous. It wasn't, however, an intimidated kind of nervousness. No, her mother, although fidgety, stared down those around her, her jaw set with determination. In contrast, as she looked about the other occupants of the room, Rory could tell that they were all momentarily befuddled.

Her grandfather, Richard Gilmore appeared as if he had just bitten into a lemon. His mouth hung open, sometimes attempting to form words, but never quite succeeding.

Her scowling father looked at her incredulously, as if he couldn't believe she had been so irresponsible as to become pregnant by a man who wouldn't do his duty.

It made Rory want to snort derisively.

But none, however, surpassed her grandmother. Although the woman must have at least suspected as much from their last conversation, she appeared utterly struck by the confirmation. The shock, however, soon gave way to fury and features were soon overtaken by the most fearsome scowl Rory had ever seen her grandmother sport.

" _What do you mean the father isn't part of the picture? Rory_?" Emily hissed, her grasp upon her wine glass tightening noticeably.

Rory frowned at her grandmother. She wanted to make amends, but she didn't think grandmother had the right to be so infuriated at the moment. Not after the woman had questioned whether or not Rory had known who the father was. And certainly not after she had pretended she had not done so. Emily Gilmore had had days to ponder their shouting match. The idea had to have crossed her mind. So her grandmother's dissembling, her acting as if she had been utterly unaware of the situation did not sit well with Rory.

In fact, it made her quite angry.

Taking a deep breath in order to calm herself, Rory explained, "What I mean to say is that the situation is very difficult. And due to certain circumstances, I have decided that it would be best if the father was not involved at this time."

" _Circumstances?_ " her grandmother raged, "what circumstances could possibly interfere with the man doing his duty by his child?"

"I don't want to say anything else about the situation," Rory's grip on her utensils tightened, "please respect that."

"Why, Rory?" her grandfather asked, looking so infinitely small for such a large man. He gazed at her pleadingly, but Rory couldn't bring herself to maintain eye contact. Instead, her eyes strayed back towards her barely eaten lunch. What little bluster she had gained at her grandmother's play-acting plummeted in the face of her grandfather's disappointment.

From the corner of her eye, Rory watched as her grandfather's ashen face grew ever more pale. For a moment, she truly worried that the man might faint and she cast a pleading glance in her mother's direction. Lorelai, however, simply shook her head and indicated she should look more closely.

It was then that Rory noticed it. At first, it was nothing more than a small glint in his eyes, but within a matter of moments, Richard's features morphed entirely. It became quite clear that a rather unpalatable thought had occurred to her grandfather. And so, with fury written upon his brow, Richard asked, "He's not refusing to take responsibility for his actions, is he?"

* * *

 **Posted October 9th 2017**


	15. You've Been Sherried

**Author's Note:** Okay, guys. Here it is, the chapter you guys have been waiting for. I would beg you to remember to review this chapter. I'm really anxious to know what you all think of it, as this is a big deviation from the original WS version.

Also, I would like to give a big thank you to my two most faithful reviewers: _Droolia_ and _YaleAceBella12_. You guys really keep me going and I hope you've enjoyed the chapters I have posted today.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 14: You've Been Sherried**

* * *

 **Friday October 8** **th** **2004, Hartford (Gilmore Manor) 12:29 p.m.**

Rory stared mutely at her plate.

She didn't quite know how to tell them that the father didn't even know that she was pregnant yet, much less that she planned on keeping it that way for the foreseeable future.

Before Rory could think of how to formulate a response, her grandfather yelled, " _That low life scoundrel!_ " slamming his palms down against the surface of the dining table. Glaring, he promised, "Oh, when I get my hands on the boy…" shaking his head, he turned towards Rory once more, "what is the boy's name? I will see to it that he understands his responsibilities."

" _No_ ," Rory stated emphatically, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Excuse me?" Richard frowned, confused, "what do you mean, no?"

"I mean that the father doesn't _need_ to be reminded of his responsibilities," Rory insisted.

"What on earth could you mean by that," Emily hissed. Shaking her head, her grandmother looked down upon Rory condescendingly, "Rory, a child needs both a mother and a _father_ to be happy and well-balanced."

Frowning, Rory retorted, "No, they don't."

Christopher Hayden snorted derisively.

The sound attracted the attention of both Rory and Lorelai, and the girls turned towards him, looking at the man incredulously.

"What?" Christopher snarked, "I happen to agree."

" _Really_ ," Lorelai laughed mockingly.

Scowling, Christopher defended himself, "That was different. _I was a kid_."

Rory quickly grabbed a hold of her mother's arm, squeezing it to indicate that she should let the matter drop. Rory knew all too well how her mother would have chosen to reply to Christopher's excuse. She didn't think it was a good idea to fan the flames of anger at the moment – there was already plenty to go around. Still, the would-be retort flittered about Rory's mind, like a big, red, flashing neon sign.

 _What's your excuse now?_

Taking a deep breath, Lorelai managed to hold the jibe back.

Christopher, however, simply couldn't let the matter go gracefully. Taking Lorelai's silence as a concession, he smirked victoriously. It never once crossed the man's mind that Lorelai had grown mute in a bid to keep the peace and that his well-worn defense was nothing more than a paltry excuse in the eyes of both Gilmore girls.

"I still don't see why it is that the boy can't take up his responsibilities as a father," Emily insisted petulantly.

"Look," Rory spat, frustrated, "the situation is complicated. Let's leave it at that."

"No, Rory," Christopher interjected, "we will not leave it at that," he sat back, crossing his legs. It appeared that his pseudo victory over Lorelai had gone to the man's head and he now seemed to believe that he had more sway in the conversation than he actually did.

"Yes, Christopher," Lorelai hissed, "we will."

"All of this is pointless," Rory sighed, "the father doesn't even know."

"What?" Emily asked, incredulous, "what do you mean he doesn't know? He's going to be a father for heaven's sake! How could he not know?"

"Because I haven't told him!" Rory exclaimed, her tone a few decibels short of yelling.

"Why on earth not?" Richard cried.

"Because," Rory hissed, "for the thousandth time – it's _complicated_."

Rory groaned as nausea fought its way up her esophagus. The conversation was much too stressful for her constitution at the moment. Her family's inability to let the matter at hand drop was severely exacerbating her symptoms. Although Rory tried to ignore it, she was starting to become rather dizzy. If things didn't calm down soon, she worried fainting might become a real possibility.

"Well that's just too bad Lorelai Leigh Gilmore! The fact of the matter is you are nineteen years old and pregnant! Despite what your mother would have you think, you cannot raise this child alone. Now, I demand you tell us who the father is so that we can settle this matter to our satisfaction," Emily insisted.

"No," Rory shouted, "I will not!"

"This is ridiculous," Christopher began, sneering, "Rory we are _trying_ to help you. _We_ are the adults here and _we_ know what is best for you. Now tell us."

Scowling, Rory crossed her arms defensively, "No, I won't. I'm an adult too. I have my reasons for not wanting the father involved at this time. Mom understands my reasons, even if she might not agree with them. Why can't any of you do the same?"

" _Of course_ ," Christopher laughed derisively.

"What in the hell is that supposed to mean, Christopher?" Lorelai asked, infuriated.

Christopher slammed his fist down on the table, "Just that as long as you _understand_ her reasons, she'll go on thinking she has the right of it just because _you_ let her!" he threw his hands up in the air. Looking sympathetically at Richard and Emily, he said, "It's no wonder that Rory won't listen to a word _we_ say. _Our_ opinions mean nothing to _Lorelai's._ "

Lorelai scowled at her ex's tactic. She was all too familiar with it. He was playing the victim. The man who suffered only to be spurned by the people he loved. But more than that, he was attempting to rally _her_ parents to _his_ side. He wanted them to know that _he_ agreed with _them_. That _he_ would rally with _them_ to stand as a united front against _her_. Sometimes, Lorelai really couldn't believe the things Christopher thought he could get away with, "Butt out Christopher, this has _nothing_ to do with you," she hissed.

" _Butt out_ ," Christopher sputtered indignantly, " _I'm her father_. This affects me as much as anyone else."

"Affects you?" Lorelai snorted, incensed, "How could it possibly affect _you_. It barely affected _you_ when you found out you were about to become a _father_. Why would finding out that you're about to become a _grandfather_ be any different?"

"I'm a great father!" Christopher yelled.

Lorelai laughed derisively, "Just not to _Rory_."

Rory's eyes widened as she looked at her mother in shock. Her grandparents appeared to be as dumbstruck over her mother's retort as she herself was. Lorelai Gilmore was many things, but cruel and vindictive weren't traits that her mother ever displayed. Her mother was honest in her assessments. Whenever she would reprimand someone, she typically had a good reason to do so.

Rory forced herself to swallow down the bile that wanted to force its way up her throat. For her mother to address such a fault in Christopher's character, after years of dancing around and studiously avoiding the subject, could only mean that she had been provoked beyond reason.

Rory really should have insisted on knowing the details of the argument which had taken place between her parents last Tuesday.

Rory jumped, startled, as her father whipped up the table linen from his lap and threw it violently down upon his plate.

Brusquely, he stood from his seat, "I don't know why I even _bothered_ ," he scowled, "I _knew_ that no matter what I thought, what I _want_ , you would just do as _you_ thought best."

He laughed hollowly, "You always do, you know? And you don't care how many people you hurt in the process, do you Lorelai?"

Beside her, Lorelai trembled with rage.

"Of course you don't," Christopher continued maliciously, "you're _Lorelai Gilmore_. You're selfish and condescending. There is no way that anyone else in existence could know how to deal with this situation better than you do?" he laughed derisively.

"Dad?" Rory pleaded, her voice breaking.

"And _you,_ you're exactly like her, aren't _you_. You don't care about what I think or what I want as long as it interferes with what you _want_ ," he yelled bitterly. Christopher shook his head and looked down upon his daughter arrogantly, "And you'll end up just like her, you know. A single mother, trapped in a small town life, bound for _spinsterhood_."

"That's enough Christopher!" Lorelai yelled, knocking back her seat as she abruptly stood up.

"Of course it is," Christopher laughed, his mien conceited, "After all, you always know _better_ , don't you Lore? You always know when enough is enough, huh. It's not like you'd ever make a mistake, would you Lore?" he nodded along, pretending to agree with her that _enough_ really was _enough_ now. However, within a moment the counterfeit humility he displayed was replaced with a cruel grin, "Oh wait," Christopher intoned, "you did get accidentally knocked up at sixteen… But that's not your fault, now is it?" he threw his hand up in the air, pretending to forfeit, "No, it's my _fault_ for thinking that one broken condom wouldn't be such a big deal in the grand scheme of things," he laughed.

Christopher looked around him, seemingly pleased with the stricken and ashen faces around him.

For her part, Rory was openly crying. She had always known that her father could be self-absorbed and self-serving, but she had never believed he could be so openly cruel when he felt it could serve him.

Smirking, Christopher glared at Lorelai. She stood before him, mute. He, in his infinite vanity, believed that he had successfully proven his point and that the woman was baffled as to how to concede the fight. Feeling superior on the fumes of his perceived victory, Christopher neither noticed nor cared that his words might be harmful to his daughter. And so, with very little thought to what it was he was actually saying, he drove the knife in even further, "It's not as if anyone could blame you for not realising that you were pregnant in time for the problem to be _fixed_."

In that moment, several things happened at once.

Rory released a heart wrenching sob. The sound of which finally broke through the haze of victory which had clouded Christopher's mind. This in turn, prompted him to break eye contact with Lorelai, who gazed upon him as equally horrified as she was furious and disgusted. The man frowned as he fully absorbed his daughter's distraught form for the first time. Soon, the weight of his words dawned upon him and his conceit melted away. Replaced with dismay and a sharp, painful shame, nothing could distract Christopher from the reality of the wound he had inflicted upon his own daughter – nothing, not even the sound of Emily's crystal wine glass smashing into a dozen pieces upon the floor.

"Rory," Christopher gasped out, painfully repent.

Whatever else he meant to say in that moment, however, would forever remain a mystery. For an enraged Richard Gilmore descended upon the man, yelling and advancing towards him menacingly. Under different circumstances, the scene might have even dissolved into a true battle of fisticuffs. But as it was, Christopher was so shocked at what he done, that he stared mutely at the man as he was forced from his seat. Christopher put up a bit of struggle as Mr. Gilmore pushed him out of the dining room and dragged him to the door. But still, he was much too out of sorts for his efforts to be effective by any means.

Rory, however, didn't see or hear any of this. Her thoughts were consumed with her father's implications. A great big cloud of grief had settled upon her mind and she could not process any other information. Rory had always known that her very existence had been the result of an accident. Just as she had always known that life for her mother, and even her father, might have been easier if she had never existed in the first. She had never, however, once believed that her own _father_ , who had been the least encumbered by her birth, might have preferred for her be aborted rather than born.

As distraught as she was, Rory couldn't help but conclude that the thought had been silly and self-serving. Her parents had been no more than sixteen years old when she had been conceived. It would be illogical to believe that the thought of abortion had not crossed either of their minds as an easy solution.

But on her twelfth birthday, when she had asked her mother, Lorelai had emphatically announced that abortion had never been an option for her. That she had loved the tiny life growing inside her from the moment she had learned of it and that she would never have been able to bring herself to abort it.

It was the height of conceit, but at the time, Rory had just naturally assumed that her father had felt the same. That even if he couldn't handle the day to day, he still loved her just as much as her mother did.

Obviously, that hadn't been the case.

And the knowledge ate away at her unlike anything else had ever had.

* * *

 **Friday October 8** **th** **2004, Hartford (Gilmore Manor) 2:13 p.m.**

Rory fell down onto the couch, numb.

She had cried for the better part of the drive home. In a bid to comfort her, Lorelai had even gone so far as to try to bribe her with some Indian food, which her mother absolutely _loathed_. The attempt, however, did not succeed. In fact, it actually backfired quite spectacularly. The offer had only made Rory cry all the more, for she had known all too well her mother wouldn't have been willing to put up with the so-called stench of Indian take-out if the night hadn't gone so spectacularly wrong.

Her grandfather throwing Christopher out of the house hadn't marked an improvement in the course of the evening. In fact, it had marked the bitter end. Her mother, incensed with Christopher, had blamed the elder Gilmores for inviting him to diner that evening. Although Emily Gilmore had blustered, saying that as her father, Christopher had as much right to be present to deal with the situation which Rory found herself in as anyone else.

Despite her defense, it was quite clear that Emily herself realised that she had done wrong. She, like Rory, had been aware that Lorelai and Christopher had a heated argument last Tuesday. Unlike Rory, however, Emily had received her information from Christopher himself. And given her own strained relationship with Lorelai, Emily had taken Christopher's word that her daughter had been her typical stubborn and difficult self. It had never crossed Emily's mind that Christopher might have unduly provoked Lorelai. And although Rory still remained ignorant of what exactly had occurred and what had been said, it was clear to her that her mother had been severely provoked.

Emily, however, was as unwilling to own up to her mistake as she always was when she was in the wrong.

This, in turn, only exacerbated Lorelai's ire and she had marched Rory out of the manor before Richard had even re-entered the house.

In the drive-way, the girls had found Richard and Christopher arguing. Richard was emphatic that Christopher leave at once. Christopher, on the other hand, was pleading to be allowed the chance to apologise to Rory and take his words back.

The two men were startled when Lorelai and Rory marched out of the manor, with an irate Emily Gilmore shrieking her objections behind them.

Seeing an opportunity, Christopher attempted to get around Richard to get to Rory. The man, however, seeing the manoeuver, stopped him. Before anything else could happen, the two youngest Gilmores entered the jeep and Lorelai quickly drove them away.

Behind them, they left a fuming Emily Gilmore and a feuding Christopher Hayden and Richard Gilmore.

Rory hadn't been able to think beyond the wrenching pain at that moment. But now, thinking back on the scene, Rory couldn't bring herself to care about what the three had thought at their abrupt escape.

Lorelai plopped down beside her and asked, "How are you?"

Rory looked at her mother, red eyed, puffy faced, sniffling and grimacing.

"Okay," her mother winced, "stupid question."

Lorelai groaned and grabbed a hold of a throw pillow. Squeezing it to her torso, her mother remained silent for several moments. Observing the woman, Rory noticed for the first time that Lorelai's eyes were suspiciously red. She frowned at the sight and a pit of guilt formed in her gut. Rory had been so preoccupied with her own emotional toil that it had never even crossed her mind that the evening's events might have also affected her mother.

Sighing, Lorelai sat up and placed the throw pillow upon her lap. Smiling hesitantly at Rory, she addressed the elephant in the room, "Your father shouldn't have said what he said."

Rory sunk down deeper into the comforting embrace of the couch. For several moments, she was silent. A part of her really wished to ignore everything that had happened tonight. The thought that ignoring it might prove to be the less painful course was all too evident to Rory.

Still, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she knew the truth, "Why did he then?" she whispered.

Swallowing down a sob, Lorelai answered, "I don't know."

"Did he…" Rory broke off.

"Did he?" Lorelai prodded, "What?"

Hugging a throw pillow of her own, Rory gazed up at the ceiling, "All those years ago, when you were…" Rory began, indicating at Lorelai's stomach, "Did he want you to…"

Lorelai flinched, grasping what Rory was getting at, "No," she insisted, "he never once asked me to or suggested that I…" she trailed off, unable to say the word.

"Then why?" Rory asked brokenly, "why did he say what he said, _today_?"

Lorelai at everything else in the room except Rory. Even in her state, Rory could tell that there was something, some piece of the puzzle that her mother held that she didn't know how to share with Rory.

"Mom," she asked, pleadingly.

Lorelai sighed, before nodding her head, "Francine," she began, "Christopher's mother, she thought I should get an abortion. She and Straub, your grandfather, felt that Christopher was too young to be a father. Of course, they didn't really care that I was a few months younger than Chris or that I was already too far gone to safely go through with the procedure. All they cared about was that Christopher didn't have to deal with the fall out – or marry me. They wanted me to get rid of you. To them, it was the best solution."

Lorelai took a deep breath and wiped away a stray tear, "But I said no. And your father agreed. Francine was angry about it. She felt that I had too much influence over Christopher and that I somehow made him agree with me despite his better judgement," Lorelai snorted, derisively. Shaking her head, she continued, "In the end, they settled for making it clear that they wouldn't support Christopher if he chose to marry me before he turned twenty-five. They threated to revoke the trust fund they set up for him if he did. They were afraid he would waste it all on me," she snorted, "not that it did them much good in the end. As a reward for doing as they asked, the Haydens allowed your father access to his trust when he turned eighteen. The only condition, of course, was that he not use any of it for my benefit – or for yours. And he didn't. Instead, he wasted it all on whatever caught his eye at the time. By the time he was twenty-one; he had thrown it all away and had nothing to show for it. Straub and Francine didn't have enough money to set him up again at the time, so he started popping up, coming to see you every few months. And that was that."

"So," Lorelai sighed, "I guess that, in the heat of the moment, your father might have just spat back all that crap that Straub and Francine had been feeding him throughout the years. It isn't an excuse for what he did, but it's the only thing that I could think of that might explain why he said what he said."

Rory sniffled and wiped away her tears angrily. She didn't know why she was crying. It wasn't a secret that her father's parents wanted nothing to do with her. In all her life, she had never even met _them_. Still, experiencing the abstract truth and knowing it were two different creatures altogether. So, although it had never truly pained her to have never met her other grandparents, it did pain her to learn of the length the two had gone to in order to completely bar her from their lives.

This line of thought, however, was not her most pressing concern, "You said that Francine thought that dad had only been against the abortion because you were, that if you hadn't already decided to keep me, he might have agreed with his parents. Would he have?

"No," Lorelai answered, her voice lacking conviction, "at least, I never thought he would have."

Rory bit her lip and tried not to sob.

"Oh honey," Lorelai soothed, brushing her hand in Rory's hair, "even if he had agreed with Straub and Francine, I never would have."

"I know," she sobbed, "but that doesn't make me feel any better right now."

Lorelai hugged her daughter to her and for nearly half an hour, the only sound in the room was Rory's sniffling and small sobs. After Rory had finally seemed to regain a hold of herself, Lorelai attempted to cajole her into a better mood, "Indian?"

"No," Rory shook her head, "I'm actually in the mood for Luke's."

When her mother released a relieved sigh, Rory couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

 **Saturday October 9** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 7:53 a.m.**

Dean slowly made his way down the stairs. He wasn't expected at the construction site for another half-hour, and he planned on using that time to tell his family that he would be seeking a divorce from Lindsay. His plan, however, quickly fell through once he noticed his father talking on the phone with his mother and sister sitting at the breakfast table, stone faced.

Dean groaned.

Lindsay must have gone crying to her parents. And as was usual, Michael Forester had felt the need to assert himself and called Dean's father to get him to sort Dean out for Lindsay. These calls typically took an hour or two, and more than once his dad had to pass the phone off to his mom otherwise he would wind up being late for work. This, of course, would wind Michael Lister up even more because he felt that Jacob Forester couldn't be bothered to do his duty as his family's patriarch.

In the end, Mr. Lister wouldn't leave them be until either one of his parents had agreed to resolve the matter to his satisfaction.

It seemed that telling his family would have to wait.

* * *

 **Saturday October 9** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 9:57 a.m.**

"Lorelai?" Richard Gilmore's voice enquired over the answering machine, "Lorelai are you there?"

Lorelai, for her part, simply stared at the answering machine. Given last night's fiasco, she didn't dare tempt fate and actually _answer_ her father's call. He could just say what it was he wanted to say over the answering machine.

Sighing, her father realised he wouldn't be getting an answer any time soon, "Lorelai, I am calling to inform you that I have dealt with Christopher. After last night's _production_ , I made it clear that he should not in any way, shape or form bother either you or Rory. If either one of you wish to seek him out, that is a different matter altogether. However, if he should appear uninvited, please call me and I shall deal with the matter accordingly."

Richard cleared his throat, "On another matter, your mother and I have discussed it and she feels that a little bit of time to calm ourselves and think would be beneficial for us all. With this in mind, we have decided it would be best to suspend our Friday night diners until further notice."

Lorelai glared at the machine.

"I hope that both you and Rory use this time to examine the situation properly and proceed accordingly," Richard finished.

As the dial beeped, all Lorelai could think of was – _couldn't they have at least waited a couple of days before doing this?_

* * *

 **Tuesday October 12** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 7:14 p.m.**

Lindsay smirked triumphantly.

Under normal circumstances, the blonde would have considered the situation she now found herself in to be a great annoyance. It didn't fit into her plans or go along with what she wanted for herself from life at the moment. However, given the recent upset in her marriage as of late, Lindsay was astute enough to realise that this might be the answer to all her problems.

She now felt certain that she held the winning hand.

And that whatever excuses Dean made in that pea sized brain of his to justify denying her, would now crumble under the weight of the leverage she held.

Needless to say, Lindsay felt ecstatic at the prospect.

With this change, all her problems went away.

Dean would concede and buy her the town house she so richly deserved, and she wouldn't have to live in this dump of an apartment. And since the idiot had angered her to the point where she had done quite a mess of their furniture and decorative pieces, he would have no choice but to allow her to buy better, fancier furniture. She would, naturally, also have to redecorate the town house first. The paint which was currently upon its walls, though adequate, did not suit her taste. But best of all, Dean would no longer be able to deny her anything she desired. After all this time, it would finally register in that thick brain of his that she not only wanted, but _deserved_ the best.

She wouldn't be able to confirm it until the twentieth– but Lindsay was quite convinced that she finally had the idiot pinned in a corner.

Thankfully, the task of handling her husband didn't appear like it would be too arduous. Despite his recent rebellion, he had listened to her when she had demanded that he did not return to the apartment without her say so. Dean hadn't been back since she had kicked him out last Friday.

Lindsay had no idea why Dean had felt the need to move their money to another account with the same bank, but she wasn't about to stand for it any longer. In fact, once Dean came crawling to her in order to hand over new cheques books, she would make it clear that she expected him to hand over all financial decisions to her father. Her daddy would, after all, always have her best interests at heart. And to be perfectly honest, she didn't quite trust Dean's financial decisions. After all, what on earth could he have been thinking of last week? How on earth could moving their money to a different account at the same bank have benefited them?

Lindsay snorted. In didn't matter anymore.

All that mattered now, was that she celebrate her success in style. Tomorrow, she would go out and enjoy her time away from Dean to the fullest. After all, once she exerted her leverage, her extra-curricular activities would have to be curtailed.

* * *

 **Posted October 9th 2017**


	16. The Other Side of the Door

Okay, everyone. I should warn you guys; this chapter earns its M rating. I considered curtailing some of this, but I felt the need to drive the image home. I don't really want to say anything more than that, because I don't want to give anything away. I'd like to say that I indicated which bits you can pass over safely, but I can't. The way I wrote the chapter, some important bits are mixed in with the M stuff. Sorry…

On another note, please review. This one's been a long time coming and I can't wait to read your thoughts on this chapter.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 15: On the Other Side of the Door**

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:17 p.m.**

Dean sighed as he reached the front door of his apartment.

He didn't want to be here, but he didn't have much of a choice. Although he had some spare clothes at his parent's house, there weren't that many. If he didn't want people asking questions, he would have to retrieve some. Besides, it was probably a good idea to try and retrieve some of his more valuable possessions. He had an appointment with a lawyer next Monday. Dean wasn't sure how long exactly it would take to file for divorce, but he was pretty sure Lindsay wouldn't take the news too kindly when she found out.

Luckily, he'd had the foresight of removing a few things here in there over the course of the last week, before Lindsay found out about him closing their joint account. As it was, he had managed to sneak out a couple of small family heirlooms his parents had given them on their wedding day. He hadn't, however, been able to remove the Rory box, or anything that Lindsay would have noticed missing. Tonight, Dean planned to grab some of his clothes, the Rory box and a few things he didn't want to risk losing to one of Lindsay's tantrums.

His hope, naturally, was that he would be able to do all of this without Lindsay finding out about it. Dean believed that he had stacked the cards in his favour. It was Wednesday night, so Lindsay shouldn't be at the apartment, as his wife always spent her Wednesday nights at her parents' house for some quality time with her folks. As long as Lindsay followed her typical schedule, she wouldn't be back at the apartment until tomorrow afternoon. So, unless one of their neighbours saw him removing his things from the apartment and reported it to Lindsay, his wife should remain none the wiser to what he had done.

Anxious to get the whole thing over with, Dean's hand shook as he slipped the key into the lock. Entering the apartment, he cast one last suspicious glance down the hall, worried that a noisy neighbour might be about. His fears were for nought, however, as the hall had remained as empty as it had been when he first arrived.

Dean felt like laughing at his own paranoia.

It was clear, that if he did get caught, it would be his behaviour, more than anything else that would give him away to his neighbors.

With a small chuckle, Dean quietly closed the door behind him. He shook his head at his own absurdity and crossed the living room. As he approached the hall, he was taken aback by a small strand of light spilling from beneath his bedroom door.

Dean paused at the sight.

The bedroom light was on…

 _It shouldn't be on._

If it was on – then someone _was_ there.

Which could only mean that Lindsay had forgone her typical Wednesday night plans and had chosen to remain at the apartment.

Dean scowled at the thought.

He needed to leave before she noticed he was in the apartment. If Lindsay realised that he had the gall to return to _their_ apartment _without her permission_ , she would shriek about his callous and selfish nature again.

And the last thing Dean wanted to do tonight was deal with one of his wife's hissy fits. He'd had enough of _those_ to last a _lifetime_.

Dean would just have to wait and try to get his things later.

He rolled his eyes at the thought.

 _Just once, it would be great if Lindsay didn't screw him over._

Screwing him over, however, was one of Lindsay's specialties. And as Dean turned to make his way back to the apartment door, he became ever more aware of the fact.

" _Oh," Lindsay moaned from behind the bedroom door._

Dean startled at the sound and stopped in his tracks. For a moment, he had honestly believed that he had imagined it.

 _But no_ – as he focused on the sounds emitting from behind the bedroom door, Dean soon realised that he had not imagined _anything_.

He could hear it.

He could hear it _all._

At first, the sounds were muted – faint. But soon they grew, increasing in pitch and tempo.

The sound of his bed springs creaking under the mounting stress.

His wife moaning in unadulterated pleasure.

Her lover groaning enthusiastically, cursing and spurring them on.

And, as Dean made his way towards the bedroom door in a stupor, the sound of the headboard as it began to thud violently against the wall.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:19 p.m.**

Lindsay moaned as Wicki had her kneel with her face pressed down into the mattress. As his thrusts gained in strength, the blonde all but purred in satisfaction. The man might be wholly beneath her notice, but he certainly knew how to please a woman in bed – which was more than could be said about her husband on a good day.

Lindsay keened as Wicki hit a particularly pleasurable spot and she would have melted into the mattress if her lover hadn't kept a tight hold of her hips.

 _This was the life._

She had a lover who knew how to keep her happy in bed. A chastened husband about to crawl back home on his knees, begging for her forgiveness. And soon, Lindsay would confirm her suspicion, thus giving her all the leverage she needed to permanently cow her husband into submission.

 _Life couldn't get any better than this._

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:20 p.m.**

Reaching the door, Dean laid a shaking hand upon the doorknob and turned it.

Logically, he had already known what he would find on the other side of the door.

Realistically, however, he hadn't yet processed the information when he was greeted by the sight of his wife, on her knees, being pounded from behind by her lover.

He _ought_ to have felt angry at the sight – but he didn't.

There was no anger, nor was there any jealousy or agony. Dean didn't even feel betrayed at the knowledge that his wife had cheated on him.

What he felt was an overwhelming sense of relief.

Relief that Lindsay, despite all her self-righteousness, her schemes and her prevarications, had known just as well as he had that their marriage had failed. Relief that, despite knowing full-well that he wasn't entirely to blame for the state of his marriage, he now had irrefutable evidence that Lindsay's heart was no longer in the marriage as well. But most of all, he felt relief that now, more than ever, it truly felt as if his marriage was at an end.

But as overwhelming as his relief was, Dean still felt a tinge of resentment at the situation.

Of course, he didn't resent Lindsay for cheating on him.

How could he, when he himself had cheated on her?

No.

His resentment was much more personal than that.

 _Dean resented himself._

If he hadn't been such a coward – if he had only grasped up the courage needed to admit that his marriage had failed – they wouldn't be in this situation.

Because in the end, that was what it all came down to. For despite the fact that he had all too readily admitted the situation to Rory all those months ago, Dean hadn't been able to bring himself to accept the fact that he would have to disappoint his parents. This, and this alone, kept him from acting as he ought to have.

It was ironic in a way.

Dean had been so pre-occupied in finding a way to prevent his parents from being disappointed and hurt by his failure, that he had needlessly dragged out a painful situation. It was only now that Dean could admit to himself that he, Lindsay and his family might all have been better off if he had simply faced the situation head on from the start, rather than procrastinating for months.

He had wasted so much time.

 _Dean resented the fact that he had no one else to blame but himself._

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:20 p.m.**

As Lindsay spasm around him, George Wick gave one last stuttering thrust as he emptied himself inside her.

She truly was a great fuck.

Lindsay always had been – even her first time.

She was so good, George had decided to make an exception in her case. Usually, he avoided sleeping with the same girl more than a few times – they tended to get clingy after a while. But Lindsay – well, he could never just say no to her – even when she started to date that overgrown beefcake.

It sucked that she had married the dimwit.

He had just started to come around to the idea that dating Lindsay might not be such a bad thing when she had told him that the beefcake had proposed to her. She had just finished sucking him off at the time, so the news had taken a few minutes to sink in.

George had honestly believed that that would be the end of their trysts – but no. Lindsay kept coming around – a little less often than before, but she kept coming – and so did he.

It just sucked that he couldn't fuck her whenever he wanted.

The sneaking around was also a bit annoying – but he sure as hell wasn't going to give up such a good lay just because he had to work around a cuckolded husband.

Groaning as his member softened within her spasming channel, George reluctantly extricated himself from her folds. Giving her ass a small slap, he looked up for the first time since he had begun to pound into her from behind.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:21 p.m.**

Dean knew the moment his presence had finally been noticed.

Lindsay had just finished wailing when her blond lover had groaned in satisfaction and stuttered to a stop. Smirking, the man had remained still for several seconds before finally pulling out. But, as he delivered a satisfied smack to Lindsay's left butt cheek, the blond had looked up and finally noticed Dean standing in the doorway.

For a moment, the man had simply stared at him, dumbstruck.

Then, all hell broke loose.

"Fuck!" Lindsay's lover exclaimed as he quickly crawled off the bed. He raised his arms in surrender, even as his gaze looked wildly about the room.

"Wicki?" Lindsay sighed lethargically, "Wicki, what is it?"

Dean groaned in disgust and averted him gaze. He really didn't need to see the blond's placid, dripping bits dangling about in the wind.

At the sound of her husband's disgusted groan, Lindsay startled in surprise. Rising from her submissive pose in a jolt, she lost her balance and fell backwards on the bed. Lindsay landed upon the mattress, her legs splayed open before her husband.

Dean grimaced and stared doggedly down at the floor.

 _From his dripping bits to hers._

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:21 p.m.**

Lindsay gaped at finding her husband standing in the doorway. "Dean?" she exclaimed, her pitch high and grating, "What are you doing here?"

As her shock wore off, it was quickly replaced with fury, " _You're_ not supposed to be here! I haven't given you permission to come back yet!" she shrieked.

The self-righteous anger Lindsay felt at being disobeyed once more, eclipsed all other thoughts. The matter of reprimanding her disobedient husband so absorbed Lindsay's thoughts, that the blonde succeeded in forgetting her precarious position altogether.

Thus, in her self-righteous fury, Lindsay forgot that her husband had walked in on her having sex with another man in their bed. She forgot that she was naked before Dean and that her lover stood behind her in a similar state. Lindsay even managed to forget that her lover was present in the room altogether.

All she could focus on, was the fact that her husband had once again undermined her authority – and that she wouldn't stand for it any longer.

"Oh," Lindsay hissed, "you've really gotten yourself in a mess now, Dean Forester!"

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:22 p.m.**

Dear Wicki, having realised he was of little interest to the feuding couple before him, quickly gathered his clothes. After having shoved his pants on, the man pressed his advantage and slipped out of the room as Dean stepped forward to confront his wife.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:22 p.m.**

" _I'm in a mess_?" Dean laughed derisively, "Lindsay, _I_ just found some stranger balls deep inside of _you_."

Insulted, Lindsay reared forward, denying the accusation as a matter of instinct, "How dare you!"

" _How dare I_?" Dean chuckled scathingly, glaring at his wife, incredulous.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:22 p.m.**

Scowling, Lindsay stood firm, refusing to give consequence to her husband's delirious fit.

 _How dare he?_

How dare Dean return to her apartment, unannounced and without _her permission._

How dare he accuse her of sleeping around on him.

" _Are you kidding me, Lindsay?"_ Dean hissed as he pointed accusingly at the rumpled sheets, and Lindsay's disheveled and naked state.

Glowering, Lindsay looked down at the bed she was sprawled upon, ready to hiss an insult. Reality, however, finally caught up with the blonde and the memory of her lurid evening with Wicki returned at the forefront of her mind.

Looking down at herself, Lindsay finally registered the state she was in with a horrified shriek. Slamming her thighs closed, the blonde grabbed a hold of the bedsheet and wrapped it around her naked body.

The action, she realised, was much too little and much too late. For even with a quick glance, Lindsay became aware that, even if her husband hadn't caught her in the act, he would have known by the evidence remaining up her body.

Lindsay's nose wrinkled.

 _She needed a shower._

And although the blonde blushed at the indignity of being found in such a state, Lindsay had absolutely no intention of conceding the upper hand, "You have no right to treat me with such utter disrespect," she hissed.

Dean looked at her, struck silent.

 _That's right,_ Lindsay smirked, _you might have caught me with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar, but you know very well that you've done wrong._

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:22 p.m.**

"Disrespect?" Dean repeated, hollowly.

"That's right," the blonde gloated.

Dean looked at her, utterly lost.

"Well?" Lindsay hissed, "What are you waiting for – _apologise_."

"Apologise?" Dean asked, disbelieving, " _You_ want _me_ to _apologise_ for the fact that I found you _screwing some guy in our bed_?"

 _His wife had never been the sharpest tool in the shed._

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:23 p.m.**

Lindsay scowled at her husband, "I want you to apologise for speaking to me as if I am some hussy off the street. _I am your wife_. I _deserve_ respect. In fact, I _demand_ it."

 _What an idiot!_

Dean should know by now that he had no right to speak to her in such a way – no matter the circumstances. It made her so angry that the jerk thought he could get away with it – especially after all the crap he had been trying to pull in recent weeks.

 _It seemed she would have to tighten his leech even more._

Which was just _so_ annoying.

Lindsay thought the idiot would have gotten over his disobedient phase by now. Except for his continued refusal where the townhouse was concerned, her husband had been so pliable the past month. But in recent days, it seemed the cur had regained some of his old, rebellious nature. Once more, he refused her the townhouse she so richly deserved – despite the fact that it was her wedding anniversary. And then he had to gall to hesitate at writing up a cheque for her when she countermanded his foolish decision.

Of course, Lindsay had yet to hear from Mrs. Dabbinsky as of yet, but she was convinced that Dean had taken her edict to heart and had followed through on her demands.

But it irked her to no end that Dean seemed to believe that he could still thrash against her demands for a bit and then get away with it by setting things to rights.

No, it was quite clear to Lindsay that she would have to grind this particular instinct right out of her husband's character. She knew she wouldn't be happy until the idiot learned his place and did as he was told with no complaint.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:23 p.m.**

Dean stared at his wife, simply unable to comprehend the sheer absurdity of her expectations. Despite himself, Dean couldn't help but laugh a Lindsay's triumphant smirk. It was all so ludicrous, but he didn't know why he expected otherwise.

After all this time, Dean no longer held any delusions as to his wife's character. Lindsay was petulant, self-righteous, self-absorbed and a bitch. It didn't matter if she did something wrong – she would always find a way to blame it on someone else.

Once, in a fit, she had thrown a ceramic statuette at his head. Lindsay had then forced him to replace her cheap statuette with a limited edition fine china Royal Doulton figurine. She had insisted that it had been his fault that the statuette had been broken in the first place, that if he had just done what she demanded he do, she would never had been so angry as to feel the need to throw something at his head.

Lindsay was incapable of admitting she had done wrong.

Arguing with her would be pointless and would only feed into her wounded, self-righteous behaviour.

And so, with no regret whatsoever, he simply stated the situation as it was, "I don't care. I'm done. _We're done_."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" Lindsay hissed angrily, clutching at the stained sheet wrapped around her.

"I can't do this anymore Lindsay," Dean sighed, "I don't want to fight anymore."

"Well," she laughed derisively, "maybe you should stop being an ass then, huh?"

Dean ignored her needling. She was trying to turn the situation around on him and he wasn't going to let her. He might not be innocent when it came to the complete and utter failure that had become their marriage, but he wasn't solely at fault either. Instead, he pulled his rucksack out from the closet and began shoving some clothes haphazardly inside.

It crossed his mind to grab the Rory box. But he would have had to lift the floorboard up from inside the closet, and he had a feeling the sight of his secret box would set his wife off.

"Look, Lindsay," Dean groaned, "I'm not going to do this with you. I just want to grab some clothes and go back to my parents' home."

"Well, good," Lindsay smirked, "it seems you're finally wising up, _Dean_. But just to be clear, this time, don't come back until _I tell you_. And don't think that apologising will be enough this time around. Be prepared to show me that you've learned your lesson, and will not be repeating your _mistakes_."

" _My mistakes?"_ Dean hissed, " _Lindsay, I am the one who just found his wife in bed with a stranger."_

Lindsay scowled and pointed a finger at him accusingly, "See, that's the problem with you Dean, it's always about _you._ You have to work. You don't want to go out. You don't want me to buy nice things. You want to go to school. You don't want to buy a town house. _YOU. YOU. YOU._ It makes me sick. If it weren't for Wicki, I would never have any fun. _"_

"Wicki, huh?" Dean laughed derisively, "so this wasn't a one-time kind of thing, was it? How long have you been sleeping around on me?"

Offended, his wife shrieked, "That's none of your business Dean Forester!"

"You know what?" Dean shook his head, "You're right. It's not. We're done. I don't care anymore. Sleep around as much as you want. Just leave me out of it."

"Oh!" Lindsay screeched, "I can't talk to you when you're like this. Just get out of my apartment _you selfish bastard!_ " the blonde furiously stomped out of the bedroom, slamming the bathroom door shut behind her.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 13** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dean and Lindsay's Apartment) 9:34 p.m.**

Laying face down upon the bed, Lindsay screeched into her goose down pillow. However, the relief she sought from the exercise escaped her. Thus the blonde resorted to furiously slamming her fists and feet down in the mattress and shrieking profanities, "How dare that bastard! How dare he talk to me that way? _How dare he?_ Oh, when I get my hands on him…"

Once more, Lindsay slammed her face down against the pillow and let out a mighty shriek. Though it was muffled, the sound was still considerable, leaving several other tenants wondering if there was not a wounded beast of some kind roaming the streets of Stars Hollow.

 _Wasn't it enough_ , Lindsay thought, _that Dean has been acting like a jerk for months now? That he kept refusing to buy her that townhouse she so deserved and instead wasted her money on a worthless degree? That he kept talking to that Gilmore bitch against her orders? And refused to simply do as he was told? Weren't all of these indignities enough for her to bear? Did her husband have to disrespect her as well? Did Dean simply believe that she would allow him to get away with it?_

And for what?

What was Dean's justification in all of this?

 _That he caught her in bed with Wicki?_

So what if he did?

Wicki certainly didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

It certainly didn't matter that Lindsay had been sleeping with him.

 _Why would it, when Dean was the one in the wrong?_

Her idiot of a husband shouldn't have been so surprised that she had sought comfort in another man's arms – not with all the stunts he had been pulling as of late.

Why, most people would wonder why it hadn't happened sooner.

Confidentially – it had. And it had happened often. Years ago, Lindsay had lost her virginity to Wicki and had been sleeping with the man on a steady basis since that time. But Dean didn't know any of that. No, as far as he was concerned, her little tryst with was simply a moment of weakness on her part. And this infuriated her all the more, for instead of admitting that he had been an ass of the first order as of late, and vowing to reform for her benefit, Dean had seen fit to deride her in a pique of childish tantrum.

 _When would her husband finally be able to admit his wrongs? When would he become a man, and do what was necessary for her happiness? When would he see fit to bend to her desires and give her everything she so richly deserved?_

 _ **Now.**_

It would have to be now. How could it not be? Dean had just found her in bed with another man. Although his behavior in the aftermath had been inexcusable, Dean must have rightly felt threatened by Wicki.

Lindsay took a deep breath, and tried to calm her trembling, raging form.

Yes, she was certain, that even now, the initial shock was wearing off, and her husband was realising that if he did not get his act together soon, he might lose her. And that, in coming to terms with all he done to her, he would come back to her, crawling on his knees and begging for forgiveness and another chance. The shock of catching her in flagrante with another man would soon wear off, and all Dean would be left with was the overwhelming guilt he would feel at the lengths he had driven her to.

Still, when the bastard came back to her, Lindsay would make him _pay._

* * *

 **Posted November 2nd 2017**


	17. Things That Follow

Okay guys, as you've no doubt realised, we have now officially entered phase two of this story. Dean has finally seen the light and gathered up the courage to deal with the mess he got himself into. Now we face the reality of his situation, and all the trouble that comes with it. Beware, things will get worse before they get better – as will the drama. I hope you all enjoy the coming chapter. I know that some of you have been anxious for this particular part of the story and I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Again, please review. They do wonders in keeping me motivated.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 16: Things That Follow**

 **Thursday October 14** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester residence) 7:25 a.m.**

The next morning, Dean awoke feeling very much like a new era had dawned. Breathing the crisp autumn air coming in through his bedroom window, he felt rejuvenated. It was almost as if he had been given a new life and Dean had no intention of wasting it.

His first instinct had been to go find Rory. He wanted to talk to her – to explain to her that he was filing for divorce and that there was nothing left to stand in their way. Lindsay knew that things were over and soon, so would his parents. There would be nothing for Rory to feel guilty about.

However, he resisted the urge.

Dean had already made a huge mess of things with Rory, and he didn't want to risk making things worse with a premature move.

No, he had decided.

He would wait until his divorce was official – if only to spare Rory from any kind of retaliation on Lindsay's part.

Even now, Dean was certain that his wife was blaming her infidelity on him. Lindsay was simply incapable of accepting when she had done wrong and would only ever admit to a wrong in as much as it was the logical consequence of the fault of others.

Needless to say, Dean didn't trust that Lindsay wouldn't misplace her part of the blame on someone else – and he didn't want that person to be Rory.

All he could do now was to bide his time and hope for the best.

Sighing, Dean quickly rushed through his morning routine. As he did so, he was thankful that he lived in a small town and the high school was less than ten minutes from his parents' house. This had allowed his sister to grow quite lazy in the mornings. And despite the fact that she typically needed an hour to get ready for school, Clara Forester never got out of bed before eight in the morning. This meant that Dean had ample time to relax and enjoy his shower.

Feeling refreshed, Dean grabbed a hold of his rucksack and dumped its contents upon his unmade bed. Without really bothering to look over any of the clothes he had retrieved from the apartment, Dean quickly picked out a shirt and a pair of jeans from the lot. After dressing, he grabbed his wallet, watch and cell. And in a final fit of procrastination, Dean looked over his room one last time, and made sure he hadn't forgotten anything he needed.

Sighing, he took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to go down to breakfast.

Dean might have finally settled upon telling his parents he wanted a divorce from Lindsay, but that didn't mean he relished the thought of the task ahead.

After his fight with Lindsay last night, he had returned to his parents' home to find the family pre-occupied with their solitary projects. They hadn't known that he planned to stop by the apartment that night on his way home from a construction shift. Something in his expression, however, must have given him away. His mother had looked concerned and had enquired as to what was wrong. Dean had evaded the question, but Jane Forester had looked apprehensively at his rucksack.

Despite everything that had happened as of late, his family probably thought that this was just another one of their meaningless arguments that had simply escalated to ridiculous proportions. He hadn't had the heart to tell them that things had escalated in the past weeks. Dean didn't know how they would react once he told them of Lindsay's latest stunts. Although he was quite certain his parents would take offence at his wife cheating on him, he didn't know how they would react to learning that Lindsay had attempted to forge his signature on a sale contract.

He didn't think they would take that part lightly. Neither, Dean was convinced, would his divorce lawyer.

Dean shook his head and attempted to brush off the tension growing in his neck and back.

This needed to be done – and it needed to be done this morning. He didn't want to drag this out any longer than he had to.

As Dean made his way down the stairs, he could hear his family gathering around in the kitchen for breakfast. Though he couldn't quite make out what it was they were saying, Dean had an inkling that he was the topic of discussion that morning.

Sure enough, the moment he entered the kitchen, all became silent.

It made Dean want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The Foresters were, by their very nature, a loud and energetic bunch – especially in the mornings.

Dean smirked as he watched his mother flutter about the kitchen, determinedly avoiding his gaze as she put a smiley face on a stack of pancakes. Confidentially, Dean had outgrown the attraction of a smiley face stack of pancakes when he was ten. In consequence, his mother had stopped making them for him. However, the smiley faced breakfast had made an astounding comeback in the recent year. For some weird reason, his mother had fixated on smiley faced pancakes as the cure to all of his current woes. So, whenever he slept over because he had a fight with Lindsay again, he would wake up to smiley faced pancakes in the morning.

There were different kinds of pancakes, of course. Some had blueberries, others bananas or apples. But the best kind, the kind his mother only ever whipped up when things had really gone bad, were the buttermilk pancakes with a strawberry smile and raspberry eyes, drizzled with melted milk chocolate – which his mother was currently whipping up.

"Hi," he stated, laughing.

His mother paused in her drizzling while his father pulled back a corner of his newspaper to look at him, confused. Clara, however, seemed wholly pre-occupied with her breakfast. He couldn't help but smirk as he watched his little sister try to chew a too big piece of pancake, smearing melted chocolate all around her mouth.

Somehow, when the divorce would be finalized, Dean couldn't help but think that Clara would be the one to suffer the most from it.

Unlike him, his teenage sister still appreciated the smiley faced pancakes, especially the ones drizzled with melted chocolate. She would be put out when their mother no longer felt the need to whip them up every other day.

"So," Clara said around a mouthful of pancake, strawberry and chocolate, "what'd you do this time? Forgot to buy princess a box of tampons?" she asked sarcastically, her vehemence coming through even as she hummed in delight over the pancakes.

"Clara," their mother swatted her with a towel, "mind your manners young lady."

Looking upon the forty-one year old woman, one couldn't help but wonder what she had contributed to the genetic make-up of her children. The woman, though very beautiful, had passed on very little of her appearance to her children. In fact, other than her green eyes, Dean was the spitting image of his father. Her vibrant red hair, full cheeks and small stature had bypassed him altogether – as it had bypassed her daughter. Matthew Forester, by comparison, seemed to have passed down every other trait to their children, save for Clara's mysteriously blonde hair.

Annoyed, Clara scowled even as she vehemently forked another piece of pancake, " _I hate her_ ," she reminded them all, petulantly, "she's such a spoiled little brat. It's not my fault my brother's an idiot and married a banshee."

"Listen to your mother Clara," Matthew Forester chimed in, sternly, "besides, you never liked Beth either."

"No," Clara answered around a bite of pancake, "but I did like Rory. Why couldn't he have married her instead? That would have been so cool," she grumbled.

"Clara," their father hissed testily, slamming his empty mug of coffee upon the dining table.

"No, dad," Dean intervened, "she's right. I never should have married Lindsay."

At this admittance, all sound within the room ceased. Ignoring their shocked faces, Dean quickly grabbed a hold of the plate his mother had brought for him. Tucking into his breakfast, he waited for his family to recover his bearings. Once that happened, Dean didn't doubt he would have an enquiry on his hands. Nor did he doubt that Clara would be insufferable in her gloating. As an older brother, he didn't like admitting to the fact that Clara was a more astute individual than himself, but on the few occasions that he had no other choice but to do so, Clara would be sure to rub it in. Dean had a feeling that she wouldn't be so superior about it all if he just admitted she was right more often – but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The very thought of it made him feel like he was attempting to swallow cement.

Confused, Jane Forester looked back and forth between her son and her husband. With a less than subtle jerk of her head, she indicated that Matthew should quickly get to the bottom of the situation.

Slack jawed, Matthew looked at his wife and attempted to shake off his stupor. Clearing his throat, he asked, "What was that son?"

Jane's eyes narrowed at her husband's side-ways approach to the matter. They needed to get to the point of the matter, and quickly. The shock was wearing off and already she could see her daughter beginning to gloat as he hummed around a piece of strawberry.

Matthew, however, simply shrugged his shoulder helplessly.

 _How else did you think I was supposed to start this conversation_ – Matthew's hazel eyes gazed at her, bewildered.

Dean groaned. He hadn't wanted to repeat himself, "I said that Clara was right," he scowled and looked away from his beaming sister. Already, he could see his sister vibrating in her seat.

Clara, by contrast, was on cloud nine as she grabbed a hold of the bottle of maple syrup and dumped a generous amount onto her remaining pancakes. She needed to savour this moment. In one of his rare moments of clarity, her elder brother had conceded that she was in the right. This was a rarity, as in order to admit she was in the right, her brother would often have to admit he was in the wrong. Although it happened often enough, Dean rarely swallowed his pride long enough to admit to it.

It gave her a warm fuzzy feeling when he did so. The kind she got at Christmas time, when everything was just right with the world, "Glad to see you've seen the light brother dearest," Clara said sweetly.

Jane scoffed and smacked her daughter with the towel again. Despite this, his little sister kept gloating, even as their mother glared at her in disapproval. The cheeky little brat even gave their mother a victorious grin before wolfing down a syrup glazed piece of pancake.

"Right about what exactly?" their mother asked, scowling at Clara as she took her seat at the table.

Sighing, Dean dropped his fork against his plate, "Right about my marriage. Right about Lindsay," he shook his head, " _Right about everything_."

"Dean, sweetie, what exactly happened?" Jane probed gently.

Looking at the faces of his family, Dean sighed. He knew he would have to answer sooner or later. Still, he couldn't help but want to stall a bit longer, "Do you really want to know what's been happening mom? Do you really want the truth about everything? With nothing sugar coated? Do you mom?"

Bewildered, his mother answered, "Well of course I do, what kind of question is that?"

Dean took a deep breath, "I don't love Lindsay, mom. I never loved Lindsay. It's always been Rory for me. Just Rory, no one else. But I was stubborn. I told myself I just needed to move on and I would get over her," Dean chuckled.

"So I started dating Lindsay, and for a while, I managed to convince myself it was working. That I was over Rory. But I wasn't," he sighed, "and I proposed to Lindsay."

He picked up his fork and started to push the strawberries around, distorting the smiley face, "So I invited Rory to the wedding. After all, nothing says I'm over you like marrying someone else, does it?" Dean chuckled derisively.

"I actually looked for her during the ceremony – even as Lindsay was scowling over Clara's stunt. Rory was all I could think about. At the time I convinced myself it was because she had told me she would be there. Rory was never the type to say she would do something and then not do it. I was worried," he smiled bitterly.

"After that I just looked for reasons to be around her, to see her, maybe even talk to her if I got lucky. I was pinning away for her despite the fact that I had married someone else. And I know that all of this just makes me sound like the world's biggest jerk. But mom, I swear I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I really did try to make things with Lindsay work. But neither one of us was ever happy. We just kept fight over the littlest things – _you know we did_ ," Dean pleaded.

His father stared at him, solemn faced. Clara had even stopped eating her pancakes. His mother, looked to be on the verge of crying, "Oh, sweetie," she whispered, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because," Dean chocked, "you guys loved Lindsay. You loved that I had married such a _nice girl_ ," he laughed derisively, "I didn't want to disappoint you guys. So I put it off – despite the fact that Lindsay kept getting worse, and I cheated on her. I just kept putting off until I couldn't take it anymore.

"You cheated on her?" Jane asked, surprised.

Clara snorted, "Come on, can you blame him?"

"Yeah, I did," Dean fidgeted, "can we not talk about it."

"Does Lindsay know?" his father asked.

"No," Dean snorted, "she doesn't know. Not that it would matter in the grand scheme of things."

"Of course it matters!" his mother reprimanded him, "I know things have been difficult and that Lindsay hasn't been the easiest person to get along with as of late, but I raised you better than that, Dean Forester. If you are unhappy with your wife and are convinced that reconciliation is not an option, you ask for a divorce. _You do not cheat_."

Dean knew that his mother was right, cheating was wrong. Sleeping with Rory, no matter how right it felt at the time, was the wrong thing to do. But Dean also knew that real life was messy and difficult – and that, no matter what anyone else said – the situation hadn't been as black and white as all of that.

He hadn't planned on sleeping with Rory that night – he hadn't planned on doing _anything_ with Rory. It had just happened. And although he didn't regret that it did happen, he did regret that it had happened whilst he was married to Lindsay. No matter how awful things had become with Lindsay, neither she nor Rory had deserved that.

Still, the facts remained, "I know all of that mom. I'm sorry that I slept with another woman while I was married to Lindsay. But to be perfectly honest, even if I hadn't done so, the result would have been the same. I still would have wanted a divorce from Lindsay."

Clara, grinning like a Cheshire cat, was about to congratulate him on growing a few brain cells when her mother spoke up.

"Good," their mother said, "at least you realise you've done wrong."

Nodding his head in understanding, Matthew agreed, "Yes, it is good that you are able to admit that you shouldn't have strayed, despite the circumstances. Still, Lindsay will be devastated once you tell her that you wish for a divorce."

Dean snorted derisively, "I doubt it."

Matthew frowned and shared a concerned look with his wife, "What do you mean son?"

"Well," Dean began, "It turns out I wasn't the only one who had cheated."

"I knew it!" Clara sang as their parents startled.

Clearing his throat, Matthew asked, "How do you know son? Did she tell you that she had cheated on you?

"No," Dean laughed, "I went back to the apartment last night to grab a few things and found them in the act."

Clara grimaced, disgusted by the idea.

His mother, however, didn't seem to know quite what to make of it, "Are you sure?"

Dean snorted, "Oh, believe me, I'm sure. There's no mistaking it. I caught the tail end of it – they were _finishing_ up when I opened the door on them."

* * *

 **Saturday October 16** **th** **, Stars Hollow (Lindsay's Apartment) 11: 14 p.m.**

Lindsay sat down primly upon her queen sized bed. Carding her fingers through her wet hair, she picked up her cell and flicked through her contact list. Finding her husband's cell number, Lindsay smirked victoriously. She had just returned from spending a marvelous day in the city of Hartford.

The morning had been entirely spent shopping. Lindsay had not only replaced all those pretty little decorative pieces that Dean had made her break, but she had found several more that had caught her fancy. To this, she had added a couple of designer dresses, pricy jeans and swanky shirts. To top this off, she had ordered a scrumptious lunch at an expensive restaurant.

The afternoon, however, had been spent pursuing more carnal delights. She had met with Wicki shortly after lunch and had enjoyed his attentions for several hours prior to making her way back down to Stars Hollow. After arriving at the apartment, she had taken a good half-hour in the shower, and pampered herself with a new body scrub and lotion she had bought that day. Lindsay, of course, would have much preferred to try out the soothing bath powders she had bought – alas, those would have to wait. The blonde consoled herself with the thought that soon, she would be able to have a relaxing bath whenever she chose in the comforts of her very own townhouse. For the next few weeks, she would simply have to contend with the shower.

The one blight of the entire experience had been the fact that she had needed to use the emergency credit card her father had set up for her in order to pay for it all. Despite the fact that she had generously given Dean a week to set matters to rights, her husband had yet to deliver her new cheque books or bank card to her. Lindsay, however, didn't allow this to faze her. No doubt the hapless idiot had thought to drop them off at their apartment last Wednesday, and had thus shown up at their apartment without her permission.

It was true that, initially, Lindsay had been furious with Dean for ignoring her demand that he not return to the apartment without her say so. But then, she had calmed down some and logic had returned. Her idiot of a husband had probably thought that showing up unannounced with the cheque book and card she demanded was a good way to make amends for all the crap he had put her through. With this in mind, her anger against her husband had decreased a little bit. Lindsay was still furious that Dean had gone against her express orders and that he had treated her with such disrespect, but she couldn't fault the man for being so eager to reconcile with her.

It put her out that Dean had yet to drop off her banking items, but her husband had received quite a shock last Wednesday, so it was only natural that he would need some time to come to terms with all of his failings. Lindsay had no doubt that sooner or later, the fool would realise that he had yet to follow through with her demands, and no doubt he would come running with his tail tucked between his legs.

In the meantime, Lindsay decided to get a move on purchasing what Dean owed her. Lindsay intended on demanding that Dean hand over all financial operations to her father once they reconciled, so she figured her daddy could simply reimburse himself from her bank account then.

 _But still – it had been days since their fight – and a girl could only wait for so long_.

It irked her that she would have to be the one to call _him._ Lindsay felt that Dean ought to be the one to do the work if he wanted reconciliation. But on the other hand, she felt a sense of empowerment, because Dean's lack of contact the past few days could only mean that the idiot had finally understood that, if she told him to do something – _he had to do it_. Still, Lindsay planned to remain as detached and dismissive as she could during the phone call. Her husband needed to know that, despite having demeaned herself by calling him first, he would not be forgiven for his atrocious behavior as of late. Nor should he expect to be allowed to return to the apartment any time soon.

No, Dean would have to do a lot more than make a few apologies and give her a few promises to return in her good graces once more.

 _This would be fun._

Lindsay grinned as she dialed Dean's number.

* * *

 **Saturday October 16** **th** **, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 11: 16 p.m.**

With a great sigh of relief, Dean Forester relaxed and simply allowed himself to fall backwards onto his bed.

The past couple of days had been quite hectic. Work on the Old Wickery Bridge was due to be finished within the next week, and so he had been scrambling around along with the rest of the construction crew, doing his best to see that all his tasks were completed on time. To add to this, Taylor Doose had decided to address the spectacle Lindsay had made of herself the previous Friday.

Taylor had assured him that he wasn't in any trouble due to Lindsay's behaviour. The man had understood that things between the Forester-Lister marriage had been rather tense as of late. And because of that, Taylor had initially decided to leave the matter be. However, upon reflection, the town councilman began to worry that a re-occurrence might be imminent. As such, Taylor had felt the need to inquire as to those particular odds.

Dean had felt that he'd had no choice to inform Taylor that things within his marriage were likely to become worst within the next few weeks, and that he couldn't promise that Lindsay wouldn't make a nuisance of herself.

Taylor had nodded solemnly and returned about his business.

To add to this, his mother had been nagging him about furniture placement and storage options. Being well aware of Lindsay's propensity of destroying things during her hissy fits, his mother was adamant that they remove all of the furniture and appliances from the apartment in a bid to save them from Lindsay's wrath. Once the divorce was finalized, his mom said that Lindsay could have her share of the goods, as dictated by the judge's terms. Until then, the items would remain safely in storage.

His parents planned on going to the apartment sometime this week to clean it out of everything save Lindsay's personal effects and clothes. Dean had been adamant that they allow Lindsay to retain custody of the bed. The Listers could deal with it when Lindsay moved out. As luck would have it, the lease on the apartment was due on the twenty-fifth, and with everything going on as of late, he'd yet to renew it. Dean planned on advising Mr. Doose, the owner, that he would not be renewing the lease after his first meeting with his divorce lawyer on Monday.

He had no intention of maintaining Lindsay in an apartment of her own whilst he divorced her. She could either find a way to pay for it on her own, or move back in with her parents.

Dean groaned as his cell rang.

Rubbing a hand against his tired eyes, Dean reached for the cell and saw SATAN'S WHORE displayed on the caller I.D.

Dean released a long suffering moan.

 _He really didn't need this right now._

For several long moments, Dean thought of ignoring the call altogether – maybe even blocking the number from his cell. But in the end he decided against either action. The last thing he needed was a pissed off Lindsay marching up to scream at him at work because she had been unable to reach him on his cell.

"What do you want Lindsay?" he asked, scowling.

"Well," Lindsay sniffed on the other end of the phone, "hello to you too."

"Yeah," he snorted, "how about you just get on with, huh?"

"Get on with it?" Lindsay hissed, obviously put out.

"What do you want Lindsay?" Dean all but growled, "I'm tired and I was about to go to bed."

"I wanted to speak to you about the state of our marriage," she hissed angrily.

"What about it?" he huffed.

" _What about it?"_ his wife shrieked, " _for months now, you have been nothing more than the world's biggest self-centered bastard._ I _thought_ that I had _finally_ gotten through to you. That you had _finally understood_ how things needed to be. So, like an idiot, I throw you a bone – I call _you_ – so that _you_ can have an opportunity to make _amends._ And what do you do? You _act_ like _you're_ the _victim_ in all of this. Like _you haven't_ done any _wrong_ , when _you know_ that _you're_ the _only one_ to _blame_ for the state of our marriage."

"I caught you in bed with another man!" Dean answered incredulously.

"So what?" Lindsay laughed derisively, " _You've_ been acting like a jerk for months now. I was _vulnerable_ and in need of _comfort_ – and Wicki offered me that. It would have _never_ happened if _you_ had just _stopped to think of someone else_ besides _yourself for once_! But _no_. You –"

Unable to withstand the lengths Lindsay would go to in order to misplace her share of the blame, Dean simply hung up on her.

His marriage with Lindsay was over. He didn't have to put up with her theatrics anymore. For all he cared, she could just go on playacting on her own. He refused to be used a prop in her perceived martyrdom.

And if Lindsay hadn't quite yet come to understand the state of their marriage, she would damn well understand it once she received the divorce papers.

* * *

 **Saturday October 16** **th** **, Stars Hollow (Lindsay's Apartment – For Now) 11:20 p.m.**

Lindsay stared down at her cell in shock

 _He had hung up on her._

That idiot had _actually_ hung up on _her_.

She didn't understand. She was so certain that by now, the reality of his situation would have dawned on him. _But no,_ Lindsay sneered, _that imbecile still thought he could treat her like dirt and simply be forgiven_. Worse still, he actually believed he had a right to stand on the moral high ground because he had caught her in bed with Wicki.

Lindsay picked up her pillow, smothered her face in its fluffy form and _shrieked_ out her anger.

* * *

 **Posted November 14th 2017**


	18. The Witch, the Brute & the China Cabinet

**Author's Note:** Okay guys, this is when the drama - and the updates (hopefully) really start picking up. I hope you like this chapter. Some of you might think its pointlessly lengthy, but I felt the need to let things simmer a bit.

As always, please review. They keep me motivated.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 17: The Witch, the Brute and the China Cabinet**

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 6:14 a.m.**

Dean watched apprehensively as his mom brusquely gathered up his used dishes. His father, seated at his left, had set aside the morning paper and was busy scowling at the remainder of his breakfast.

Dean didn't think his father would have the appetite to finish off his eggs, bacon and potatoes.

Throwing his fork down onto his plate with a noisy clang, Matthew Forested loudly, angrily asked, "Lindsay actually implied that _her infidelity_ was the result of _your_ shortcoming? That blonde slattern had the audacity to say that _you_ are solely at fault for everything that has gone wrong within your marriage?"

"Pretty much," Dean affirmed, although he wasn't quite sure what the word slattern was meant to imply.

Dean was distracted from his father's swearing by the sound of a loud clattering.

His mother had just all but thrown the dirty dishes into the sink. Worried, he watched as her knuckle turn white as she angrily gripped the edge of the counter. She was doing that thing that she did when she was infuriated, and was trying really hard not to yell, taking deep breaths with her eyes closed. Unfortunately, the tactic seemed to be failing on this occasion, because Dean could see the frown upon her brow deepening with every second.

Before Dean could even attempt to diffuse the situation, he was distracted by the chair at his right being noisily pulled out. With little to no decorum, Clara sprawled herself upon her seat and slumped forward upon the kitchen table. Her hair in complete disarray, her face and the better part of her torso smothered upon the table and her eyes closed, his little sister sleepily muttered, "Wha go'in on? Eve one yell'g. Why? Sun…Day, sleep."

Dean chuckled at Clara's distracted state. From the corner of his eye, he noticed both of his parents relaxing a bit. Like this, it was easy to remember Clara as the sweet little five year old wouldn't let them cut down a fir tree at Christmas time because she thought they were hurting it. Like this, she looked nothing like the perfect little monster she had become in the past two years.

Dean sighed as he watched Clara begin to dose off, "Lindsay called me last night."

With that, Clara's head jerked up. Her scowl, although prominent, lost its effect as she tried to blink the sleep from her eyes.

The unruly bed hair certainly didn't help either.

Dean tried his best not to laugh at the sight, less he set off a teenage temper tantrum.

"What did the bitch want now," his little sister hissed.

"Clara!" their mother admonished.

"Witch!" Clara retorted, "I said witch."

Jane Forester glared disapprovingly at her daughter, to which said daughter responded with a petulant pout. After several seconds of the peculiar staring contest, the mother gave up the ghost and returned her attention back towards her son.

"Maybe you should take the day off. I'm sure Mr. Doose wouldn't mind. Given his nature, I'm certain he's well aware that things in your life are far from well. I doubt he would begrudge you some time off," Jane said pleadingly, attempting to sway her son.

"No, mom. I'll be going in to work today. It helps take my mind off things. Besides, I should probably talk to Taylor about the apartment. I had planned on waiting until after my appointment with the lawyer tomorrow, but given Lindsay's recent behavior, maybe it would be best to tell Taylor I'm dropping the lease sooner rather than later. I don't want to risk Mr. Doose handing the contract off to Lindsay. I doubt she would sign it, given her fixation on a town house as of late, but I don't want to have to explain to Mr. Doose that my wife forged my signature if she does."

The room tensed at the reminder of the stunt Lindsay attempted to pull with the realtor.

"Do you –" his father began.

Dean, however, knowing what the man was about to ask, cut him off, "Yes, dad. I have a copy of the forged document. And, yes, I won't forget to tell the lawyer about it. Would you stop worrying?"

"Good," his mother nodded her head thoughtfully, "then while you take care of that, your father and I will go empty out the apartment."

Frowning, Dean answered, "You don't have to do that today, mom. Besides, don't you have a shipment coming into the flower shop today? I thought you didn't like letting anyone else handle those?"

"Yes, well," Jane sighed, "my employees will simply have to do without me today."

"Mom –" Dean began, but swiftly cut off with a shake of Jane's head.

"No, Dean, your father and I will empty out the apartment today. I won't risk Mr. Doose giving Lindsay notice and letting her take it out on the furniture even more than she already has," Jane nodded her head, satisfied with the scheme.

"I don't know mom," Dean sighed, "I don't want Lindsay to come at me screeching that I took some of her things. I mean, I know _you_ won't accidentally take any of her things. But…" Dean grimaced, looking forlornly at the table.

"But…" Jane prodded, smirking. She had a pretty good idea of where this was all going.

"But," he bit his lip and looked at his confused father, "no offence dad, but you were never really good at figuring out what stuff belonged to me and what stuff belonged to Clara."

His mother laughed, his sister snorted and Matthew exclaimed indignantly, "Oy, I take offence to that."

"Yeah," Dean snorted, "well a few years back I took offence to the fact that you honestly thought that the pink bicycle with the tassels on the handlebars belonged to me. Yet, you didn't hear me complaining," he scowled, rolling his eyes. But before his father could cut in, Dean turned his attention towards his little sister. His tint slightly green, Dean said, "By the way Clara, dad did the laundry yesterday and I think he might have dumped some of your unmentionables in my drawers. Would you mind picking out your stuff?"

Clara looked up at him eagerly, "Did you find my lacy boy shorts? The pink ones? I've been looking for them everywhere," she inquired.

"Clara," Jane chastised, "you don't need to make a joke out of things."

Scowling, the blonde teenager rebuked petulantly, "I'm not making a joke. I _really can't_ find my lacy boy shorts."

Incredulous, Jane turned her attention towards her husband. Her eyebrows rose in shock as she realised the man was avoiding her gaze. After several uncomfortable moments, most of which Clara spent gloating, Matthew attempted to lessen the blow of his mistake, "What? How was I supposed to know that? Fashion these days is extremely confusing! Girls wear men's clothing, and men wear pink! How was I supposed to know that young men hadn't grown an affinity for lacy underthings?"

Dean pulled a face and replied, "I really did not need that image in my mind today."

By contrast, Clara simply cackled and their mother shook her head in exasperation.

"Do you see what I mean now," Dean pled to the room at large, "If we leave dad to his own devices, he is bound to bring something back that will lead to Lindsay trying to rip my head off."

"Hey!" Matthew cried, wounded by his son's lack of faith in his discernment.

"I could go. I could pack the rest of your clothes and stuff while mom and dad take care of the appliances. I'm sure between the two of us, the chances of dad causing any problems will be severely hindered," Clara smirked as she looked at their petulant father.

Dean contemplated the compromise for a moment or two, "Fine, but be sure that at least one of you keep an eye on him at _all_ times."

"That's fine," Jane agrees.

Matthew gasped, wounded by his wife's defection, "Are you kidding me Janie? You actually want Clara supervising me?"

"Sorry dear," Jane laughed, "But they're right. You're awful with these things," she kissed him on the cheek and walked away.

Matthew Forester stared at his children dumbstruck, "My own wife, agreeing that our fourteen year old daughter must supervise me as I help pack up my son's apartment. Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

Clara laughed as Dean simply rolled his eyes.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lister Residence) 6:42 a.m.**

Shannon and Reginald Lister were furious.

Their precious baby girl had come home very late last night crying her eyes out about what Dean had done. She had been hysterical and kept saying that the boy was being unreasonable. That he was angry with her because she had enjoyed a night out with one of her friends last Wednesday. She said that he had picked a fight with her because of it – that Dean had the impudence to believe that she had wronged him in some fashion. To add insult to grievous injury, the petulant miscreant had even gone as far as hanging up on her when she called to reconcile with him.

Through her explanation the Listers seethed at the boy's mistreatment of their precious little girl. _This would not do_ , they decided, _this would not do at all_.

After all, was their daughter to remain shackled within that dreary little apartment? Was she to have no life outside of the brute? Did the boy expect her to remain at home, day in and day out, present only for his own amusement?

Reginald Lister was not one to stand idly by as ignorant morons mistreated his family. He would show Dean Forester some manners and teach him to treat his little girl like the princess she was. First, however, he would discuss things with Matthew Forester. It was clear that the boy was irrational – for who would begrudge a dotting wife a night out on the town with a friend or two every once in a while. Yes, it would be best to address this issue through the father first, so that the man might straighten the boy out a bit. Of course, Reginald would exact his own brand of justice once Matthew brought the boy to heel. There was no way Dean Forester would extract himself from _this_ latest mishap without receiving a few scrapes and bumps first.

Reginald had been much too lenient in the pass – and it seemed that the boy had come to believe that he could treat his little Lindsay in any fashion he wished without fear of recrimination on the part of her beloved father.

No, Reginald would make the situation clear to Matthew. And he would insist that the man see to it. In this matter, he would not be denied nor would he be placated. Reginald Lister was in no mood to civil, and he would ensure that Matthew knew that.

Leaving his wife Shannon to console their only daughter, he made his way to his study in order to discuss the matter privately over the phone. Dialling the familiar number, he waited patiently as the ring tone screeched five times before someone actually picked up.

"Forester residence, who's talking?" the Forester brat answered the phone.

Sighing at his misfortune, Reginald answered, "Hello, Clara. This is Reginald Lister. I need to –"

With a jerk, Reginald pulled the phone away from his ear as he heard the dial tone. Infuriated, he glared at the apparatus for several moments, huffing and puffing his rage at the audacity of the girl.

 _The girl had no manners._

Though Reginald ought not to be surprised, not with the manner that little brat conducted herself. For all the finesse the little twit had, one might believe that she had been raised in the wilds of Africa. He had always insisted that the Foresters ought to be stricter with the girl, but his suggestions of sending the girl to reformation school had always fallen on depth ears. Worse still, the Foresters had laughed at the notion, taking his well-intentioned advice as the grandest of jokes.

Naturally, any individual with sense and discernment would see the situation as it truly was, and take a justified dislike of the little attention seeker. For, Reginald Lister was convinced that any brat with the audacity to publically insult his perfect, little princess would be scorned by society at large. No, Clara Forester had little in the way of charm, wit or discretion. Her unhealthy attachment to the Gilmore bastard proved as much.

Insufferable, _unnatural_ child.

With a great, put upon sigh, Reginald Lister redialed the Forester's number. With every passing ring, the man became evermore incensed. Finally, after the twelfth, Matthew Forester picked up the call, "Matthew Forester speaking, who might this be?"

Reginald frowned, for if he were a betting man, he could have sworn that Matthew had sounded quite put upon to be answering the call. But such a notion was ridiculous. Why would the man have any reason to feel anxious about his call?

Unless…

Oh, _yes_. The Foresters must have learned of their son's insupportable behavior. This would explain the distressed tone of Matthew's voice. The man must be utterly mortified for having raised such a selfish lout.

Reginald smirked at the knowledge.

Perhaps the better part of his work had already been done for him.

"Ah, Matthew," Reginald began, feeling quite superior in his position, "This is Reginald Lister. I was calling so that we could deal with the latest situation that has arisen within our family. But, I see by the tone of your voice that you might already be aware of it."

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 6:48 a.m.**

Matthew frowned, mystified by the tone of Reginald's voice. It almost sounded satisfied – _gloating_.

Beside him, Jane gesticulated angrily. She wanted him to simply hang up as Clara had done a couple of minutes ago. Matthew, however, felt it would be beneficial to hear what Reginald had to say. It would do no good to provoke the man without reason.

"Yes," he answered confused, "I am aware of the situation."

"Good, good," the man answered good naturedly, "so may I assume that you have spoken to your son and addressed his unseemly behavior?"

"His unseemly behavior?" Matthew repeated, ire rising within him.

With fire burning in her eyes, Jane attempted to wretch the phone from his grip, but Matthew waved her off and indicated that she ought to continue loading the empty luggage and boxes into the trailer Dean had affixed to his truck. As their son did not have a shift at the construction site that day, the boy had walked to Doose's and left the vehicle and trailer behind for their use in the move.

"Yes," Reginald confirmed gravely, "it pains me to say it, but Dean has been quite the brute as of late. It seems that, after having spent a night out with some friends, my daughter returned to her home last Wednesday to find her husband infuriated. It seems that _your_ son took exception to Lindsay's little soiree and saw fit to rebuke her behavior. Needless to say, this behavior on Dean's part is utterly _unacceptable_. Not only is it disrespectful of my daughter's person and feelings, but it is completely ridiculous! Begrudging my daughter a well-earned night out with a few girlfriends, I say man! Has your son taken leave of his senses? Has he not caused enough trouble for my daughter as of late? Do not think that I am unaware of his recent rebellious bout. No Matthew, this must come to an end – and it must come to an end _today_. But, given the tone of your voice my friend, I believe that you have already reached that conclusion. Can I assume that, given the gravity of the situation, you have already begun disciplining your son on this matter?"

"Yes," Matthew bit out, features white with fury, "yes, the matter is being rectified as we _speak_ ," he enforced, gesturing to his wife and daughter to hurry up.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lister Residence) 6:52 a.m.**

"Good," Reginald smirked triumphantly, "well, once you are done reminding the boy of his duties and his manners, you may send him down to my home. My little Lindsay has been quite overwrought as a result of your son's despicable behavior, and so she will remain with us for some days to come. Of course, you understand that I will have to punish Dean as I see fit before I can even think of allowing him near my daughter again, much less before leaving the two alone long enough for him to beg her forgiveness?"

"Yes," Matthew replied, "I understand that a father must do what he must in order to protect his children."

"Good, good," Reginald nodded his head in approval, "well, we have gone over everything that I wished to speak to you about. I shall let you go now, I am certain you are quite busy with reeling your son back in line."

"Yes, thank you."

Hanging up, Reginald sighed in sublime satisfaction. He hoped Matthew was reinforcing the lesson properly. Dean needed to know that such behavior was unacceptable – and the best way to reinforce such a notion through Dean's thick skull would be a few firm punches here and there. Though, Reginald supposed it didn't quite matter. Reginald had been quite clear as to what he would do to the boy once he presented himself to his home and Matthew appeared to encourage the notion entirely.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 6:50 a.m.**

Matthew slammed the phone back into its cradle, infuriated.

"What did he say?" Jane demanded.

Matthew, however, simply shook his head, "Nothing worth repeating. Although I will say this – either the man is delusional, or his daughter has deceived him about the situation at hand. Either way, we best get on with it."

Sighing, Matthew quickly ushered his wife and daughter out the door. He wanted his son's effects removed and packed as quickly as possible. Matthew didn't like the way Reginald spoke to him. There was something in the manner in which the man spoke of reprimanding his son that did not sit well with Matthew.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lindsay's apartment) 7:03 a.m.**

Arriving at Dean's apartment just before seven that morning, Clara hadn't been quite certain what to expect. Oh, she had known that the place would be a mess – her brother had complained about Lindsay's slobby ways often enough for her to know that the blonde didn't pick up after herself. But, upon entering the apartment, Clara couldn't help but be horrified at the state of the place.

From the corner of her, Clara had noted that her parents had been just as taken aback by the sight as she had.

There was broken glass _everywhere._

Oh, it was mostly shoved off to the sides. But unless Clara was quite mistaken, it seemed that the blonde bimbo hadn't bothered to pick up anything since Dean had left the apartment two weeks ago.

It certainly looked like it.

In addition to the broken glass and ceramic littering the apartment floor, Lindsay' dirty clothes, including _her panties and bras_ littered the apartment. From bedroom to living room and bathroom to kitchen – everywhere Clara looked, she saw hot pink and leopard print thongs – discarded on sofa cushions, hanging from lamps and even dangling from the handle of a dirty stock pot. But what really made Clara green with disgust, was the sight of the half-eaten and discarded take-out boxes. By the stench, it was clear that some of those boxes had been left to spoil where they sat for several days now.

She choked on the horrid stench even as her mother rushed to open the windows.

Looking at her parents, Clara had known that they were just as disgusted as all of this as she was.

In fact, by the expression on her mom's face, Clara wouldn't be surprised if the very furniture they had rushed over to save wouldn't just wind up in the garbage.

Her dad didn't seem too happy too. She could hear him cursing under his breath as he rushed to the right side of the living room and examined the old china cabinet. Clara's eyes pricked as her mom emitted a devastated gasp. The china cabinet had once belonged to her great-grandmother, Jane's beloved grandmother, Edith Bennet. Her parents had lent the cabinet to her brother on his wedding day, as a present to remind him of great-gran Edith.

And Lindsay, in one of her tantrums, had seen fit to break the glass on the top cabinets.

As her parents fussed about the china cabinet, Clara's gaze wandered about the living, fully taking it in for the first time.

To her left stood the family's old couch, another piece of furniture her parents had lent to the newlyweds. Clara remembered playing on that old couch when she was five. Not to mention all the times she had spent on it, snuggled up with her mom, watching old Christmas movies and Holiday romances while her brother and father found better, manlier things to do with their time. Clara had _so many_ good memories attached to that couch – _so many good feelings_. Once upon a time, that couch had made her feel safe, warm and at home. And now, all those feelings were tarred – covered in Lindsay's discarded yellow, polka-dot thong, draped in a brand name shirt Clara knew beyond a shadow of a doubt did not belong to her brother, and stained in red wine.

The wine glass still laid on its side, perched precariously upon the edge of the couch.

In that moment, Clara knew. It wouldn't matter in what state they found things. Even if some things were as of yet left untouched by the ravages of one of Lindsay's infamous temper tantrums – none of these things would ever look the same – or mean the same thing to Clara ever again.

The knowledge broke Clara's heart.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Hartford (Lydia Collin's Apartment) 7:06 a.m.**

George Wick whistled as he as he snuck out of Lydia's apartment. After Lindsay had left him yesterday afternoon, George hadn't been in the mood to spend the night alone. To be honest, it kind of irked him that his best screw had left him to go home to her bore of a husband.

It didn't used to.

But then the idiot had caught them in the act – and what did he do?

 _Nothing._

Dean Forester had found his wife in bed with him and the coward didn't even have the balls to punch him for it.

True, once upon a time, George Wick had found the notion of a face to face with Dean Forester frightening. The man did, after all, cut an imposing figure. But, after years of sneaking around, the much feared confrontation had finally taken place and Wicki found himself disgusted with the outcome.

What kind of man didn't put up a fight for what was his?

 _No man._

No, after all this time, it was clear to George Wick that Dean Forester wasn't a man. He wasn't anything but a spineless, _ball_ -less idiot. And to think, a girl like Lindsay Lister actually married the pathetic waste of space. What's more, despite all the pathetic whining the idiot had done lately, she was still trying to make things work.

 _That_ irked him.

And so, he had gone out, picked up a girl and fucked her into her cheap mattress to make himself feel better about the injustices of life.

But it hadn't worked as well as it used to.

In fact, he had woken up that morning annoyed at the tediousness of it all. The slut he had picked up at the bar was the clingy sort and he'd had to wake up at the ass crack of dawn in order to sneak out before his one night stand woke up. That had just put him in an even worse mood then he already had been, because it reminded him that he would not have had that problem if only Lindsay had stayed over at his apartment last night, like she had the previous three nights.

It wasn't until he had successfully made his way out of Lyddie's apartment and turned on his cell that his dark mood had lifted.

Lindsay had texted him.

Her night hadn't gone as she'd planned. Her husband, as always, had been a jerk. She wanted to meet up tomorrow afternoon.

And just like that, George Wick found that he was having the best of mornings.

* * *

 **Posted November 18th 2017**


	19. Beneath the Floorboards

**Author's Note:** Well, I hope all of my American readers had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I hope you all enjoy the following chapter. As always, please review once you're done reading. Knowing what you guys think of the story helps me - it also motivates me to continue wading through the Frankenstein draft I have of the 2010 Edition of WS.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 18: Beneath the Floorboards**

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lindsay's Apartment) 7:11 a.m.**

It was going to be a long morning.

A very long, _emotional_ and _heartbreaking_ morning.

Turning her gaze away from the ruined couch, Clara retrieved the luggage that her father had discarded at the door and determinedly strode towards the bedroom. Her exit from the living room, however, was not accomplished without a display of anger on Clara's part. For, as she walked by the armoire propped against the right wall, Clara purposely reached her right hand out to knock over the pink statuette displayed upon it. As expected, the statuette, once knocked over, rolled away and fell off the armoire. It shattered against the floor with a loud clack, breaking into several pieces.

Startled by the sound, her parents turned and looked at her, dumbfounded.

"What?" Clara sneered, "Like the slut would notice a difference in _this_ mess."

Before she could be reprimanded, Clara rushed off to the bedroom in order to pack up her brother's clothes. Even before reaching the room, Clara knew that she would find the task particularly repugnant. She was well aware, after all, that she would be entering the proverbial scene of the crime. And, given Lindsay's lack of care for the rest of the apartment, Clara held no delusions as to likelihood of being faced with Lindsay's rumpled and dirty sheets, still bearing the evidence of her Wednesday night tryst with her lover.

Still, as repugnant as the thought was, Clara couldn't bear looking at the ruined couch any longer – otherwise she would likely have a temper tantrum of her own.

No, she needed to calm down – regain perspective.

 _Even if it meant making herself ill._

Her objective, however, was sorely tried as she entered the bedroom and found that a number of Dean's clothes had been ripped and thrown to the floor. In that moment, Clara bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood. It was all she could do to keep herself from screaming out indignities. And if the luggage she held in her hands hadn't been made of a durable material, it might have torn under the force of her grasp. But as it was, after a few deep breaths, the only evidence of Clara's ire remained her bloody lip and bloodshot eyes.

 _She would not cry_.

And so, she set about packing up her brother's things with a single-mindedness that astounded – and worried – her parents. As Clara riffled through the fancy commode Lindsay had insisted Dean buy her, the teenager took little care with the slut's clothes. Most, like her brother's torn clothing, were haphazardly thrown about the room. Thankfully, Lindsay had failed to destroy the better part of her brother's wardrobe. Save for a handful of tee-shirts and jeans, Dean had previously succeeded in removing most of his summer clothes. His fall and winter clothes, which Clara found in the bottom drawers, had remained untouched by Lindsay's wrath. In a matter of minutes, Clara had succeeded in filling the luggage her parents had brought.

With a sigh, she picked up one of the heavy bags and made her way out of the bedroom. She hadn't gone through the closet yet and would undoubtedly need a couple of boxes to finish the job. As she walked out of the bedroom, she noticed her parents had all but finished removing Lindsay's garish dinner wear set from the china cabinet and were packing it up. Clara could tell by the grimace on her parents face that neither liked the set in the least. In fact, she was quite surprised that they were bothering with it at all, given how careless her father was being with the plates. It wasn't until he dropped one, shrugged it off and kept going that Clara realised what her parents were about.

They didn't like the dinner wear set and neither did Dean. But Lindsay did and Dean had paid for it. _So they were taking it._

They weren't going to allow Lindsay the _satisfaction_ of breaking anything else her brother had paid for – no matter how garish.

Clara smirked at the knowledge that she wasn't the only vindictive one in the family.

After dropping off the first bag of luggage in the front hall, Clara retrieved a few folded boxes and went back to packing up the bedroom.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lister Residence) 9:44 a.m.**

Waking up in her childhood room, Lindsay lazily stretched out on the bed. For several moments, the blonde enjoyed the warmth and comfort of an old and familiar place. Soon, however, reality began to creep back in and a shiver of annoyance ran up her spine.

Sighing, Lindsay began to contemplate the events of the past day.

Yesterday had been such a good day for her. And as always, Dean simply just had to ruin it all.

She didn't understand.

She was so certain that Dean would be ready, that he would be eagerly awaiting her call for a chance to come back to her, crawling on his knees.

But that hadn't happened.

Instead he had been belligerent, self-righteous and just as self-absorbed as he always had been.

And so, Lindsay had decided that she was quite done with all of Dean's little tantrums. So, she had done the only thing she could do to quickly bring things to a satisfactory resolution – she had gone to her parents. In the past, whenever Dean had strayed too far out of line for her comfort, she had always gone to her parents with the problem.

It was a method that had always worked well for her. For, as her mother coddled and pampered her, her father would address the situation with Dean's parents. At which point, Jane and Matthew Forester would then take up the cause and see that things were set to rights.

And so, given her husband's present stubbornness, she had turned to her parents once more for aid. She had told them of every indignity and wrong her husband had heaped upon her as of late, even going so far as embellishing them for the greatest effect. Naturally, Lindsay had forgone informing them of the fact that Dean had caught her in bed with Wicki. For despite what her husband wished to believe, her little tryst with Wicki had no baring whatsoever on their relationship.

Why, Dean had been acting like the biggest jerk for months before he caught her in bed with another man.

 _That_ certainly didn't justify his recent behavior.

Although Lindsay now believed that her husband intended to use her tryst with Wicki as a convenient excuse for further misbehavior on his part.

So no, her husband having caught her cheating on him did not in any way, shape or form affect her marriage – so telling her parents about it would be pointless.

Besides, as far as her parents were concerned, Lindsay had never gone to bed with any other man besides her husband.

And Lindsay had no intention of disabusing them of that notion.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lindsay's Apartment) 11:24 a.m.**

It had taken a few hours, but they had finally managed to get to the point where they were comfortable beginning to move things out of the apartment and into the truck. Her parents wanted to get this part done as quickly as possible. They were worried that word of what was happening would reach the Listers, and that Reginald would attempt to make things difficult for them. Clara would have liked to think that her parents were just being paranoid – but she knew better than to underestimate the Listers.

Before starting, they had decided that the first things to be removed would be the furniture and appliances. The boxes and luggage would then follow. Thankfully, moving the larger pieces would be fairly easy as the apartment was on the first floor. The worst they would have to deal with was a two stair staircase in the building hallway before reaching the main door. At which point, another three steps down and they would be on solid ground. All in all, as long as they were careful, everything should go fairly well.

The first piece to be moved from the apartment was the china cabinet and as expected, they drew quite a bit of attention as they struggled with the antique. Thankfully, save for the broken glass in the top cabinets, the piece was undamaged.

Clara's parents were determined that it would remain so.

Moving the cabinet took a bit more time than her parents would have wished, but they knew that the china cabinet would be the hardest piece to move.

It was as they are moving out the second large piece, the washer, that the next door tenant, Lucy Mills, walked up to them and made them an offer. Her dryer had broken at the start of spring, but she hadn't had the funds to replace it as of yet. Instead, she had made due by drying her clothes on a clothes line she had installed. However, winter was now fast approaching and she found herself needing to find a dryer post haste. To complicate things, her washer had begun emmiting a terrible rattling sound which did not sit well with the twenty-seven year old. And so, she wanted to know if they could be convinced into selling her the set.

Matthew and Jane had looked at each other, debating. Clara could tell that, save for a few important pieces, her parents weren't as keen as they once had been with the idea of repossessing the furniture and appliances. Their sole goal at the moment was to ensure that Lindsay didn't waste any more of their son's hard earned money by breaking things she had insisted he buy her. They had no attachment to any of the pieces their son had bought, and Clara suspected her parents understood that Dean was of a likewise disposition. Although the washer and dryer were practical items, they were basic and slightly dented from where Lindsay had thrown things against them. To add to this, Clara was convinced that not even her practical parents would be able to bring themselves to ever use the items without being reminded of Lindsay. For, prior to moving them, they had found themselves in the unenviable position of having to remove quite a few of Lindsay's soiled unmentionables from the washer.

And so, when Ms. Mills offered seven hundred for the set, dents and all, the Foresters agreed.

This event seemed to break the ice so to speak, for just as soon as they had agreed to sell the washer and dryer, a few of the curious bystanders began to approach them, wishing to know if there was anything else they wished to sell. Soon, word began to spread. Within the hour, Mr. Lye had bought the stained old couch for his paintball range, Mrs. White's the dinning table and chairs and so on and so forth. To the great surprise of all, they even managed to sell off Lindsay's garish dinner wear to Liz and T.J., who had plans to break the set down and set it in jewelry pieces – although how they planned to do this, no one quite dared to ask. Clara couldn't help but think that the end product might be particularly sharp.

In the end, the only things that the Foresters wound up packing into the trailer were the china cabinet, Grandma Lettie's armoire and center pieces, Grandma Rose's old copper dinner wear and silver – which Lindsay had found distasteful, and thus stored in the bottom cupboards in the kitchen, inadvertently saving them from her tantrums – along with several other family pieces. Added to this were Dean's clothes and toiletries, his personal items, such as books, CD's, photo albums, laptop and assorted gadgets and mementos.

For Lindsay, they left behind the mattress with its dirty sheets, her clothes and personal items, a few stray knick knacks, several shopping bags filled with newly purchased items, the spoiled food, and one great big mess for her to clean up. Although, it is important to note at this juncture, that although they added to it somewhat, the majority of the mess in question was solely Lindsay's to begin with.

By half past one in the afternoon, Jane Forester pulled Dean's truck out of the driveway, her wallet holding over four thousand dollars more than it had when she left that morning. All in all, the Foresters were quite satisfied with the morning. And although they didn't doubt that their son had spent quite a bit more than that to satisfy his wife's materialistic tendancies, they were quite certain that Dean would much prefer the money over the slightest of reminders of Lindsay.

While Jane drove the truck home, parked it in the garage and called to order a pick-up from Luke's, Matthew and Clara were charged with the task of taking one last walk through the apartment, just to make sure that nothing had been forgotten.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lindsay's Apartment) 1:37 p.m.**

As it turned out, giving the apartment a final run through was a great idea. Although she hadn't noticed it at first, as she was giving the bedroom a final look through, she realised that the floor board in the closet was loose. Remembering Dean's tales of Rory's best friend, Lane Kim, Clara thought it a good idea to remove the board and see what was underneath.

 _And boy, did she hit the jackpot._

The Rory box.

 _She had found the Rory box._

Clara knew that she probably shouldn't, but after clapping eyes on the box for the first time in over a year, the teenager simply couldn't help herself – she opened it and began riffling through its contents. After all, for the first time in her life, brother dearest was not around to protect the secrets of this elusive box, and the opportunity was just too great to miss.

As she set about opening Pandora's box, a loud crash startled her. Frightened, Clara turned around to find that one of Lindsay's knickknacks succumbed to the allure of gravity, and the girl couldn't help but smirk at the knowledge. Although she would never admit as much, Clara might have taken the opportunity to see to it that quite a few of Lindsay's remaining knickknacks found themselves precariously perched.

"Clara?" Matthew Forester called out, "Are you okay in there? We need to get going."

"Fine Dad," she answered, "I'll be out in a minute."

With a petulant pout at the interruption, Clara quickly inspected the box's contents.

The box seemed mostly filled with photos of Rory, although she did find a stray paperback or two and the occasional ticket stub from one of their dates. But what really caught her eye was a letter addressed in Lorelai Gilmore's name.

Clara frowned at the sight.

 _Why would a letter addressed to Rory's mother be inside the Rory box?_

It seemed odd to her.

Grasping the letter, she examined the envelope more closely. As Clara noticed the European stamps that littered its surface, she assumed it must have been sent when Rory had gone backpacking through Europe with her mom.

But that didn't make much sense – _did it?_

It wasn't until she caught sight of the print year on one of the stamps that things began to become clear to Clara – and all that much more muddled at the same time. For there, on the Italian stamp, clear for all to see, was 2004 printed on the side.

Bewildered by the development, Clara stared dumbfoundedly at the envelope for several moments. The urge to open the letter and read it was all too present. It was supported by her sense of sisterly duty – the one that often told her that it was not only her right, but her obligation to snoop on her older brother. As his younger sister, she was bound by an unwritten law to point out, as many times as she feasibly could, just how much of any idiot he was.

It was, after all, a little sister's mission in life to keep an older brother humble and kind.

 _Especially since the jerk seemed to believe that he could just boss her around as if he were a third, unwanted parental unit._

As hard as she'd tried, Clara had yet to manage to get Dean to understand he was her brother – and as such he had no right whatsoever to scold her. He might excuse his behavior by saying that he was only trying to keep her from making the same mistakes he had – but this was her life and she should be allowed to make those mistakes if she damn well pleased. Besides, Dean had _married Lindsay Lister_.

The idiot had _no_ moral high ground on which to stand on.

But all of this was besides the point.

 _Should she read the letter?_

Or should she just –

"Clara?" her father prodded, "Where are you? If you don't hurry up, lunch will be cold by the time we make it to Luke's for the pick up."

Sighing, Clara looked at the envelope longningly before placing it back in the Rory box. Now that she knew it was there, she would find a quiet moment at home and read it. Dean might very well bite her head off if and when he ever found out, but she just couldn't help but worry that something was wrong. Her little sister senses were tingling and Clara was worried her brother had screwed up again.

Clara grabbed a hold of the black carrier beside her and placed it inside the Rory box for easier transport. She'd found the carrier in one of Lindsay's drawers. It was the camera Dean had bought to tape his wedding. And although Clara was convinced her brother would burn that particular film, the carrier held several other mini-tapes. Maybe there was something on them that Dean would want to keep? In any case, the camera was worth a few hundred bucks, and should not be left in Lindsay's care.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Hartford Shopping Center) 1:45 p.m.**

Rory frowned at the fuzzy onesie before her.

It had _bunny ears_.

Under normal circumstances, Rory would find the little pink outfit too much.

But these _weren't_ normal circumstances.

She was just over four months pregnant and very hormonal.

Four months ago, she would have balked at the onesie on principal alone.

 _Now_ , all she could think of was how cute a baby would look in it, despite the inherent absurdity of dressing her newborn up as a _bunny_.

When her mother had suggested they spend the day shopping around for baby things, Rory had been reluctant. The notion of actually purchasing something _for_ the baby felt momentous – and daunting.

It somehow made the reality all the more real.

Rory knew she was pregnant.

She had known for weeks now.

Yet, the notion of an actual baby had somehow felt out of reach – intangible somehow.

But now, staring at all the onesies and baby paraphenelia, it really began to dawn on Rory that, in little more than five months, she would have a wailing newborn dependent upon her for its every need.

And Rory just didn't know what to do with that.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Peach Street) 1: 49 p.m.**

Spotting her dad standing beside his hatchback, Clara scurried towards him, "Hey dad," she called out to him, "look at what I found hidden beneath the floorboards!"

Matthew Forester frowned at his daughter, looking at the box in question, "You found that box hidden beneath the floorboards?"

"Yeah," Clara sighed.

Looking at her father, the teenager realised that her father hadn't quite grasped the significance of the find. She could tell by the stumped look on his face that he was too busy wondering _why_ exactly a box of any kind could be found beneath some dusty old floorboards.

Rolling her eyes, Clara said, "It's the _Rory_ box, dad."

"Oh," the man deadpanned, frowning.

The teenager groaned, "Dean probably didn't want _Lindsay Dear_ to find it," she jeered, "so he hid it beneath the floorboards."

"Ah," Matthew nodded his head in understanding.

It was all Clara could do not to roll her eyes at him again.

After several long moments, he finally asked, "What do you think is in it?"

"Probably just some old pictures and stuff," Clara shrugged, trying to appear as innocent as she could. However, upon noticing that her father appeared as curious as ever, she couldn't help but being cheeky. With a mischievious smirk, she asked, "Why? You want to have a peak?"

To her great surprise, her father actually looked torn at the question.

 _He wanted to know what was in the box – just as much as she wanted to read that letter._

For a moment, Clara honestly believed that her father would ask her to open the box. Her glee, however, must have been evident on her face. For with a single glance at her, Matthew Forester seemed to regain his senses, and shook his head, "No, I do not," he intoned forcefully. As Clara's glee fell away, her father began to look upon her suspiciously, "And I hope you haven't taken a peak yourself, young lady. Your brother surely would not appreciate it."

With a scolding glare, Matthew removed the box from Clara's hands and packed it into the trunk of his car.

Clara pouted as she watched her father jog back towards the apartment to retrieve the final bag of Dean's clothes.

* * *

 **Posted November 25th 2017**


	20. Daddy Dearest

**Author's Note:** Dear Droolia, I apologize in advance for what's about to happen. To everyone who wondered how it could possibly get any worse before it got better, here's your answer. I debated cutting this piece out of the story altogether, but in the end, I decided to remain true to the original WS.

Fair warning, however, this chapter earns its M rating in terms of cursing and violence. I won't say anything more since I don't want to spoil the chapter – but be forewarned.

As always please review, I'm especially anxious to read your thoughts on this chapter. I believe you will all understand why soon enough.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 19: Daddy Dearest**

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Clementine Street) 1: 52 p.m.**

Lindsay hummed as her father escorted her down the street.

After having partaken of a scrumptious brunch at a restaurant out of town, her father and mother had treated her to a little shopping spree. Among her new purchases was a pair of gold peep-toe heels and a brand name clutch that she planned on wearing to her little rendezvous with Wicki tomorrow afternoon.

Lindsay simply couldn't wait.

 _Everything was once again right with the world._

Her father had assured her this morning that he had addressed the situation with Matthew Forester, and had happily found the man already taking steps to correct Dean's atrocious behavior. Of course, her father had insisted that, due to Dean's despicable actions, he would have to see to it that her husband was appropriately chastened before allowing him anywhere near her person. Lindsay wholeheartedly agreed with her father's proposed plan of action. After all the trouble Dean had caused as of late, she couldn't help but think that a beating or twelve was not only prudent, but absolutely necessary for the betterment of her husband.

 _Perhaps then, the idiot would learn._

As it was, her father was simply spoiling for it. He had been since Lindsay had told him that so many of her pretty little trinkets had been broken due to Dean's unreasonable behavior. Of course, her father had assumed that her husband had taken up the habit of destroying things in his fits of anger and jealousy. Lindsay, naturally, hadn't seen fit to correct her father's misapprehension.

Why would she, when it was clear that Dean had all but forced her to madly throw things about?

It wasn't _like_ she was in the habit of destroying things without due provocation.

In the end, the logistics didn't really matter. Dean was at fault – and he would pay for his part – tenfold. Her father would see to that. And Lindsay didn't doubt that, however angry he was at present, he would be much more so once he had finished assessing the damage to her apartment.

In that moment, Lindsay felt triumphant. Nothing could take-away from the sentiment of supreme satisfaction which flooded her being in that precise moment.

And for several moments, Lindsay retained that feeling.

And then her apartment complex came into view – and she saw Clara Forester standing by her father's dumpy looking car as the man in question exited her apartment, bags in hand.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Clementine Street) 1: 56 p.m.**

Clara sighed as her father rushed forward with the last two bags. She was starving and anxious to get all of this over with.

Her father had just succeeded in dumping the bags into the hatchback and closing the hatch when an inhuman screech rang out in the street, " _What the Hell do you two think you are doing?"_

At the sound, Clara groaned.

The bitch had returned to her den, and she had brought _Daddy Dearest_ with her.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Peach Street) 1: 57 p.m.**

Matthew Forester swore beneath his breath.

 _He had really wanted to get out of dodge before the Listers became aware of what had happened._

Taking a deep breath, he turned towards his angry step-daughter, and did his best to keep his anger in check, "We're just packing away some stuff. It's nothing that should concern _you_."

" _Nothing that should concern me?"_ Lindsay laughed derisively, "I just _saw_ you come out of _my apartment_ with _bags_ full of _my stuff! How dare you try and tell me that it is none of my concern!"_

Matthew bit his lip to keep himself from acting hastily. He couldn't help but be more than a little irked at Lindsay's dramatic display. He had always known that the girl lacked grace, but to make a public scene like this…

Still, he refused to stoop to her level, "All that we have removed are my son's belongings. You can have no grounds to object to this."

"No grounds," Reginald Lister spluttered, "what on earth are you trying to pull here, Forester? I agree, your son has acted quite despicably as of late, but I do not see how that justifies your unauthorized removal of my daughter's possessions. If all you were removing was some of your son's clothing, that I would understand. He certainly couldn't expect to be allowed to return to my daughter's home until he has made amends. But," he pointed accusingly at Grandma Rose's Grandfather Wall Clock, "what you are removing are my daughter's personal possessions!"

"That," Matthew hissed, "was _my mother_ 's clock. _It_ , along with a number of other pieces, was _loaned_ to _my son,_ upon his marriage to _your daughter,_ with the _understanding_ that the pieces would be _appropriately cared for_. It has become abundantly clear that _your daughter_ is incapable of such care and as such, we have deemed fit to _remove_ that which belongs to _my family_. We have left behind _your daughter's_ possessions, as well as a few pieces which, although purchased by _my son_ , we have found ourselves unable to stomach the thought of tampering with."

Lindsay let out a shriek and attempted to reach the hatchback, no doubt with the intent of retrieving the contents within.

Clara, however, blocked her path, "Back off you bitch! _None of that stuff belongs to you!_ "

"Shut up you brat!" Lindsay screamed, forcefully pushing Clara out of her way.

Caught off guard, the teenager stumbled and collided with the hatchback. The force of the impact delivered a painful blow to Clara's ribs and cut her breath short. Having thus crudely sidestepped the obstacle which Clara represented, Lindsay made to reach the hatchback once more, but found her path blocked by a scowling Matthew Lister.

Noticing this, Reginald Lister reached forward and guided his daughter to stand behind his person. With indignant fury, the man gazed down menacingly at the Foresters, "You just wait a minute, Matthew Forester! Who do you and your daughter think you are, treating my precious little girl this way? I won't stand for it!"

"Clara?" Matthew prodded his daughter, "Are you okay?"

The girl took in a deep gulping breath and nodded her head. Truthfully, Matthew didn't quite believe her. Not only did she fail to produce a mischievous quip, but he could see tears clinging to the corner of her eyes.

It made him want to _yell_ and _curse profanities_ at his step-daughter and her father. However, they had already gathered quite a crowd – Matthew could even see Miss. Patty standing just a few feet behind Reginald. And unlike the Listers, Matthew was astute enough to realise that the confrontation would only deteriorate the longer it went on. And so, for the sake of his daughter, he decided it would be best for them to retreat at this time, "It's time for us to go."

Clara nodded her head in understanding and gingerly made her way towards the passenger door.

"You – You – You," Reginald Lister spluttered as Matthew walked off to the other side of the hatchback and reached the driver's door.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Peach Street) 2: 00 p.m.**

Reginald Lister watched in utter disbelief as Matthew Forester ignored him. This final indignity lit a wrath within his breast the likes of which Reginald had never before known, " _You swine!"_ he hissed, "How dare you walk away from me! I _demand_ that you return _my daughter's_ possessions to _her_ – and that _your guttersnipe of a spawn apologises!"_

To Reginald's great consternation, Matthew simply stared at him, sneering. With that look, Reginald knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the man had lost all sense of propriety and reason. It was quite clear that the fool thought his justified requests to be ludicrous.

As if this was not enough, Matthew proceeded to salt the wound, "Sweetheart," the man addressed his spawn, "do you want to apologise to Lindsay?"

To which the sniveling little slattern simply responded with a derisive snort.

"Well then," Matthew said, looking at him darkly, "seeing as we have taken nothing which your daughter brought into her marriage or bought with _her_ own money, and that my daughter is unwilling to comply with your ridiculous demand, I believe that there is nothing more to be done. Now then, Clara, get in. We don't want to keep your mother waiting."

The sheer audacity and cruelty of the man utterly disgusted Reginald Lister.

 _How dare he?_

 _How dare Matthew Forester do such a thing to his family?_

"Daddy," his precious daughter sobbed out, begging him to right this grievous injustice perpetuated against her tender heart.

 _He wouldn't let them get away with this._

And as such, before any one of the dozens of witnesses knew what he was about, Reginald Lister strode forward and forcefully grabbed a hold of the Forester girl. The wretch feigned a painful howl as he vehemently yanked her away from the hatchback, dragging her towards his little girl. Wrenching her right arm back behind her, Reginald hardly registered the snap of bone as he forced the little slattern down onto her knees, "Apologise this instant!" he demanded of Clara.

"You get your hands off my daughter right now, Lister!" Matthew Forester yelled as he quickly exited his car.

" _No!"_ Reginald hissed, convinced as to the righteousness of his cause, "Not until this little bitch apologises. You won't teach your daughter any manners, than I will! It's high time the girl learns how respect her betters!"

With this, Reginald grabbed a fistful of the girl's hair with his free hand, and yanked. The girl shrieked in pain, tears streaming down her face – but Reginald was unmoved by the little bitch's display, "Now, _apologise you filthy little cunt."_

Reginald, however, would never see justice served. For in the next moment, inexplicably, he was set upon by two burly youths, who extracted him from the girl. Before he could quite make out what they were about, Reginald caught a glimpse of Matthew's infuriated features before the man's fist met soundly against his face.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Peach Street) 2: 01 p.m.**

Matthew yelled out profanities as he was pulled back from Reginald Lister.

 _THE BRUTE HAD HURT HIS DAUGHTER._

Distantly, he was aware of the sounds of the shocked screams the townspeople were emitting. He was even aware of Mr. Thompson telling him to calm down – that Lister would be properly taken care of.

But none of those things truly reached him.

All he knew was that his daughter had been attacked and he could hear her sobbing – letting out another sharp shriek as the voices around him rose in fury – before quieting down again.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Peach Street) 2: 01 p.m.**

Lindsay watched, dumbstruck, as two teenage quarterbacks descended upon her father without reason or justification. With unnecessary force, they extricated her father from the little Forester bitch, at which point the little brat flopped down theatrically onto the ground.

Lindsay didn't understand.

Why were they treating her father this way?

He had done _nothing_ wrong. In fact, he had done everything _right._ He had defended his daughter against slander and abuse.

 _Why were they dragging him off?_

Horrified, the blonde watched as the brute that was Matthew Forester punched her father squarely in the face. She let out a distraught scream and called for the police to be hailed – for Mr. Forester to be arrested. But in the chaos of the moment, no one seemed to notice her justifiable distress – or the mistreatment of her father. Instead, she watched in incredulous dismay as the very men who laid a hold of Mr. Forester attempted to placate him – promising that the police were on their way, and would see _her father_ in chains.

 _Lindsay was sickened._

She was sickened that the people of Stars Hollow could treat her family in such an infamous fashion – that they could appease the attacker while vilifying the victim.

At her feet, Clara let out another little melodramatic sob – and it dawned on Lindsay why it was that all of this was happening.

 _Clara Forester was playing the part of the victim._

They took her wounded act at face value – not realising that she was nothing more than a cruel, scheming, self-centered little bitch. These poor, foolish people didn't realise that Clara had insulted her – had stolen from her – nay, had even _attacked_ her. For what else could Clara's actions in preventing her from repossessing _her_ property be called, if not an attack against her person?

No, this was all Clara's fault.

 _Her father wouldn't be so humiliated if not for that little bitch!_

And now, Clara was playing the victim, being soothed and coddled by Miss. Patty.

With little thought, Lindsay did what came naturally to her in that moment – _what she believed was right._

She delivered a sharp kick to the cunt's stomach.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Peach Street) 2: 01 p.m.**

In a shocked panic, Miss. Patty attempted to pull little Clara Forester back as Lindsay attacked her. Her efforts, however, were not entirely successful, as Lindsay's final blow glanced the girl's shin. By that time, the blonde had managed to deliver two blows to her victim's stomach and another to the girl's thigh.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Peach Street) 2: 02 p.m.**

Lindsay shrieked indignantly as three women took hold of her. She demanded to be released – but they wouldn't listen to her.

"You don't understand!" she insisted to no avail, "This is all her fault – she insulted me – stole from me. That little bitch _attacked_ me _first_. Didn't any of you see her? She's just pretending to play the victim. Have all of you lost your senses? My father was only protecting me. Mr. Forester is the one that attacked my father without cause. You have no right to restrain me! Let me go!"

Her pleas, however, were wholly ignored. And in the depths of her despair, Lindsay did the only thing left for her to do…

"Daddy!" she cried out pathetically.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Doose's Market) 2: 16 p.m.**

"Dean," Taylor Doose called out as he rushed through the produce isle. Dean looked at the wheezing man, frowning. Taylor wasn't supposed to be in the store today – he was supposed to spend the day at the soda shop. In fact, he was dressed in his Olde Soda Shop habit – although it looked rather disheveled at the moment.

Stumbling, the man reached him and leaned forward, resting his hands upon his knees in an effort to take a breath. Seeing the tinge of blue at Taylor's lips from his lack of oxygen, Dean began to worry.

"Are you okay," he asked, "I'll go get you a chair to sit on."

Taylor, however, grabbed a hold of his arm and stopped him from leaving. Frowning, Dean asked, "What is it boss?"

"Your –" the man wheezed, out of breath from his running, "Your sis-ter."

"My sister," Dean repeated, becoming alarmed, "what about my sister."

"Att-ack-ed," he eventually huffed out.

"What?" he exclaimed.

Taking a deep breath, and leaning heavily against the stock shelves, Taylor pointed half-hazard to his left, "There – there was," a deep rattling breath, "an altercation over on Pea-ch street," Taylor coughed, "Mr. Lister and Lindsay attacked," he wheezed, "Clara. Sent to hospital."

In panicked disbelief, Dean began fumbling with his apron, searching for his keys, "I have to – I got –"

"Go," the wheezing man waved him off quickly.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dragonfly Inn) 2: 39 p.m.**

The employees of the Dragonfly Inn were all aflutter. A big fight of some sort had taken place somewhere on Peach street and rumors were abound.

It was all Sookie could do to keep her staff in check without Lorelai there.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Police Station) 2: 51 p.m.**

Jane Forester rushed into the station.

She just knew that something like this would happen.

That – somehow – the Listers would pick a fight with them. But, never in her wildest dreams, had Jane believed that the altercation in question would turn _violent._

Jane just wished that she knew what had happened. But Sherriff Jeffries hadn't wanted to talk about it on the phone. He'd simply insisted that she come and collect her husband as quickly as she could – and so, without the benefit of the truck or hatchback, she had rushed over to the station on foot.

Reaching the sheriff office, Jane Forester was confronted with the sight of her husband locked in a cell at the far left of the jail, while Mr. Lister and Lindsay were locked in the cell at the far right. Both cells were separated by a third, empty cell in the middle. Her husband was pacing angrily about his cage, silent – while the Listers were hissing profanities and demanding to be released, crying abuse.

Sherriff Jeffries, a typically happy-go-lucky man, glared disapprovingly at the two blondes in the right cell.

"What happened?" Jane asked, confused.

"Oh thank god," her husband exclaimed, relieved.

Sherriff Jeffries, on the other hand, quickly reached for the keys and rushed towards her husband's cell.

* * *

 **Sunday October 17** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Police Station) 2: 23 p.m.**

Lindsay glared at the Foresters and answered Jane's question, "Your husband attacked my father without provocation – _that's what happened_."

"Without provocation?" Matthew Forester growled, "Your father _attacked_ my daughter. She was rushed to the hospital."

"What?" Mrs. Forester shrieked.

Lindsay sneered at the sound.

 _Didn't that woman have a single ounce of class in her gnarly little bones?_

" _It was all her fault!"_ Lindsay insisted, her voice sounding petulant to everyone but her father and herself, _"_ She attacked _me_ first. Daddy was just protecting me from your evil little brat. And as a result, we have been wrongfully arrested while that _dramatic little bitch_ was rushed to the hospital for _a bruised ego_. Meanwhile, my daddy, who is _actually injured_ ," Lindsay pointed accusingly to the man's bloody and bruised nose, "hasn't received _any_ medical attention! The entire situation is ridiculous in the _extreme_ – _anyone with eyes could see that Clara was just faking it for the attention!"_

Matthew angrily slammed his hands against the bars, and Sherriff Jeffries laid a hold of Mrs. Forester.

Vindicated, Lindsay smirked.

 _There. Now the sheriff must see exactly how savage Mr. Forester was._

Undoubtedly, the sheriff must have now realised that, in the chaos of the moment, the witnesses to today's debacle had misunderstood the situation. Lindsay was convinced that, now that the misapprehension was cleared, the sheriff would see fit to release them from their prison. They, of course, would demand an apology and that charges be filed against the conniving reprobates. No longer concerned with her situation, Lindsay turned towards her father and began fussing once more with the bloody cloth upon his nose.

"Sorry about this, Mrs. Forester," Sheriff Jeffries announced, "but legally, I had detain him for some time as he was involved in a physical altercation."

At that, Lindsay started and turned around. With wide, disbelieving eyes, both Lindsay and Reginald watched as the sheriff unlocked Mr. Forester's cell, "The ambulance took Clara to the East Hartford Hospital on Queen Street."

Reginald Lister, finally recovering from his shock, spluttered, "What?"

Sheriff Jeffries, however, ignored the man and simply continued on as if nothing was amiss, "I had Kirk drive your car to the station. It's parked out back for you."

" _What do you think you are doing you fool!"_ Mr. Lister hissed indignantly, "That brute attacked _me!_ I demand that _he_ is returned to his cell and that _my daughter and I are released at once!"_

Before the Foresters could do much more than glare at the man, they were interrupted by the unwelcomed arrival of Mrs. Shannon Lister, " _What on earth is going on here!"_ she shrieked, "Why have you arrested my husband and daughter? You can have no just cause for having done so! _Release them at once."_

"Mama," Lindsay wailed theatrically, "the Foresters broke into my apartment and stole my things – _and then Clara Forester attacked me_! And when daddy tried to make it right, Mr. Forester punched him and Sheriff Jeffries arrested _us_ without reason. _And now he's letting Mr. Forester walk free!"_

"What is this nonsense?" Shannon snarled.

Sheriff Jeffries, however, ignored her and indicated to the Foresters that they should leave. The pair, in Lindsay's astute opinion, looked like conniving vermin as they weaseled out of the room. Her mother attempted to stop them – to rectify the injustices reaped upon their family – but Sheriff Jeffries once again showed his lack of character, and stepped between her mother and the miscreants.

Lindsay felt ill-used and utterly humiliated.

The indignities of the day, however, were not an end – for although her mother had arrived, Sheriff Jeffries refused to release them. They argued with the man – pointing out that the sheriff had allowed her father's attacker to leave without further ado – but he would not be moved.

"Now listen here," Sheriff Jeffries hissed, "this is my station and I will detain my suspects however I see fit, understood?"

Her mother tried to object but the Sheriff rudely cut her off, "Now, Mr. Forester might have punched your husband – but the man viciously attacked Mr. Forester's fourteen year old daughter beforehand. Given that, I have very little interest in whether or not you or anyone else in your family think I am being unjust. Mr. Forester will be staying the night."

" _That is utterly ridiculous!"_ Lindsay's mother shrieked, "why, detaining a man for preventing an impertinent brat, minor or not, from attacking his daughter! I never – how utterly despicable! And then, to unlawfully confine my daughter as well."

"After your husband was removed from his _victim,"_ the Sheriff hissed, red-faced, "your daughter saw fit to attack Miss. Forester herself, in full view of the witnesses and despite the fact that Miss. Patty did her best to intervene. Your daughter, as an adult, will remain in holding _, like her father_."

With this announcement, the Listers began to scream and cry abuse once more. However, no amount of reasoning on their part could convince the bumbling Sheriff to do what was just and right – and to release them.

* * *

 **Posted November 27th 2017**


	21. Miss Margaret Winters

Hi guys, I'm sure you're surprised to see another update from me so soon. Given what happened last chapter, I felt the need to soothe the wound a bit. I hope the following chapter does the job. I hope you enjoy it – though very little happens in this one. I hope you don't find it boring or repetitive, but I felt this was necessary to clear the air a bit.

I will give you all a fair warning. I'm not a lawyer or a cop – so I'm completely clueless where the legalities are concerned. So, for my sanity, please don't knit pick at them. I've researched all I could think of and used logic for the rest. I honestly don't know what more I could have done. So please, bare that in mind.

As always, please review.

In closing, I would like to offer up a special thanks to YaleAceBella12, sweetreader, Sarah1287 and Droolia. You, my faithful reviewers, keep me motivated. I would not be posting these chapters without you.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 20: Miss. Margaret Winters**

* * *

 **Monday October 18** **th** **2004, Hartford (Winters & Schuster Law Firm) 8: 57 a.m.**

Dean Forester gulped down a large swig of black coffee, the bitter liquid nearly burning him as he did so. This, however, bothered him very little at the moment. The night had been a long and emotional one – spent lurking about hospital hallways and dozing in uncomfortable plastic chairs whose neon orange appearance tended to provoke headaches.

The news, once given, had been as reassuring as it had been disturbing.

Although, by some small miracle, Clara had been spared any severe damage to her organs and had not presented with any internal bleeding, the extent of her injuries had been nauseating. Not only had her left shoulder been dislocated, but her left wrist had been broken, three of her ribs had been bruised and her right ankle had been sprained. There had also been mention of a small bone in her right foot having been broken, but for that, there was nothing to be done but wait for it to heal on its own.

The same, however, could not have been said of Clara's shoulder and wrist. Once reset, her shoulder had needed to be splint – much to Clara's dismay. In addition, her broken wrist had needed to be set into a cast. And when the doctor had informed his little sister that she would have to suffer the cast for six to eight weeks, Dean had watched, choked, as she tried not to cry.

Needless to say, his parents had dealt with the situation about as well as he had.

The only thing which Clara had seemed grateful for that night had been the knowledge that the splint would only have to remain for the next three days and would be removed from her person prior to her release from the hospital on Thursday. For, despite the fact that the doctors had cleared her of any life threatening injuries, they still wished to keep her in the hospital for the next three nights for observation.

With his sister in the hospital, Dean had felt the need to postpone his meeting with his lawyer until a later date. His mother, however, had insisted that he attend the meeting as planned. In the future, Dean would never forget the fiery glint of determination and abject fury which sparked from his mother's eyes as she demanded he do anything and everything he could in order to obtain a divorce as quickly as possible.

And so, at half-past five in the morning, Dean found himself taking a cab ride back to Stars Hollow. Entering through the garage, he found his truck, still laden with the remains of the apartment, and the trailer still hitched. Sighing, Dean set about clearing the bed of his truck, stacking the items on the garage floor. The job successfully done, he unhitched the trailer from his truck and set about taking a shower and changing into a fresh pair of clothes.

By eight-fifteen, he had arrived at the offices of Winters & Schuster Law Firm and decided he had just enough time to grab a quick breakfast at the McDonald's he had spotted a couple blocks down. Equipped with two McGriddles and a large coffee, Dean returned to the law offices.

He had just finished eating his breakfast, and was gulping down the remainder of his hot coffee when the secretary announced, "Miss. Winters will see you now Mr. Forester."

As he entered the office, Dean was faced with a small, bespectacled woman in her early thirties. Her dirty blonde, curly hair was swept low upon her neck in a chignon. Her over-all appearance exuded refinement and grace. The image, however, was softened by a few stray curls sticking out here and there, where they had escaped the confines of her hairstyle. Her blue eyes, which sparkled mischievously behind her black cat eye glasses, also reinforced the impression that the woman was much more than she seemed to be at first glance.

"Mr. Forester was it?" the blonde woman asked, "My name is Margaret Winters, and I am the lawyer that has been assigned to review your case. Please," she waved her hand towards a plush, beige chaise, "do be seated."

"Thank you Miss. Winters," Dean hesitantly nodded his head in acknowledgement and took his seat, "it is a pleasure to meet you. I just wish it was under better circumstances."

"Yes," Miss. Winters smiled, "let's speak about those circumstances, shall we?"

He nodded his head solemnly.

"Now," the lawyer began, "I see that my assistant has listed irreconcilable differences as the reason that you are seeking a divorce. Could you please elaborate on that?"

"Well," Dean cleared his throat, "I will admit that, from the very start, my marriage to Lindsay was on rocky terms. Looking back on it now, I don't think either of us entered the marriage for the right reasons, and I'm pretty sure we both knew that. But still, we went through with it."

Miss. Winters tilted her head to the right and raised an eyebrow.

Dean sighed, "Things were fine – at first – they weren't great, but they were fine," he sat back in his seat and rubbed his right hand against his tired eyes, "I guess, if I have to pinpoint a time when the cracks started to show, it would be Christmas of last year. That's when everything went from _fine – to bad – to worse._ Lindsay started picking fights – and I'm not saying that sometimes there wasn't a good reason for it – but more often than not, the fights were about the silliest little things. Then, as time went on, things escalated. She started getting angry with me over who I talked to, what I did – hell, even over the fact that I was working such long hours. Of course, it didn't matter that I was working those long hours to buy her that stupid townhouse she wanted – _all that really mattered to her was that I was too tired to take her out anymore,"_ Dean shook his head.

"I see," the lawyer nodded her head.

"By the time summer came around, the cracks had grown to such a point that I couldn't just ignore them anymore. I knew that things were over – but I didn't want to disappoint my parents. They kept telling me it would get better, that I just had to put in the effort…"

Miss. Winters sighed, "But it didn't get better, did it?"

"No," Dean laughed derisively, "it didn't. Lindsay still wanted that damn townhouse – but I wanted to wait a bit longer, to earn a bit more money, so that we wouldn't get buried under bills we wouldn't be able to pay if anything happened. But Lindsay didn't care, she just wanted her townhouse, and she stopped bothering to ask for it. Instead, she began _demanding it._ And when I refused," he snorted, "oh, she would get _so_ mad."

Frowning, Miss. Winters asked, "How mad?"

"Mad enough to break things – throw things all over the place. All in a fit to force me to give her what she wanted – but it never worked," Dean shook his head.

"When you say ' _throw things'_ , do you mean…" the lawyer trailed off and Dean could see that she didn't quite know how to ask the question.

"At me?" he finished for her, "yeah."

Grimacing, Miss. Winters made a note of it, "What kind of things?"

"Vases, statuettes, plates," Dean counted them off with his fingers, "her hairbrush, a stapler – oh, she even threw a box of tampons at me once."

"Anything," Miss. Winters bit her lip, "sharp?"

"Well," Dean began, "there was that one time with the knife…"

"Knife?" the lawyer repeated, alarmed.

"Yeah," Dean laughed hollowly, "it's funny, a couple of days ago, I would have sworn that it was an accident – that the knife just happened to be on the plate when she hurled it my way – and that plate was just the object that was conveniently closest to her. But now…" he shook his head, "now I just wonder if she did it on purpose. Of course, the knife didn't hit me or anything – but I have to wonder if she'd hoped it would."

Miss. Winters simply looked at him, frowning. Dean could tell she wasn't satisfied with his explanation – and that she seemed more than a bit alarmed at his confession. Still, she eventually decided to forge on, "Then what happened?"

"Lindsay stopped caring – stopped trying to pretend," he answered, unconsciously slouching down in his seat.

"Pretend?" Miss. Winters repeated, confused.

"Yeah," Dean sighed, "when we started dating, Lindsay was one of the sweetest, nicest, selfless girls I had ever met. But, after we got engaged, that particular façade, like our relationship, began to crack. Unfortunately, I was too much of an idiot to realise it was all an act before we tied the knot – fool's reward and all that. It only took a few months of marriage for me to realise that my darling wife wasn't as angelic or innocent as she pretended to be."

"How so?" the lawyer asked.

"Well," he began, "for one, whenever someone crossed her, she did everything she could to make them pay. For example, when we would fight, she would kick me out of the apartment until further notice – and when she would _break things_ during our fights, she would have me _replace them_ before she would even think of reconciling with me. Lindsay always went on about how it was my fault that her pretty little knickknacks were broken – that she wouldn't have broken them in the first place if I hadn't of made her so angry. Which, coincidentally, brings me to my second point – Lindsay has always – _and will most likely always be_ – incapable of accepting blame for her own faults or mistakes. When she does something wrong, rather than accepting it and making amends, she immediately places the blame on someone else. _It wasn't her fault for doing something – it was someone else's fault for giving her reason to perpetrate that wrong._ Thirdly, Lindsay doesn't forgive the slightest mistake on anyone's part, but expects everyone else to overlook hers."

"I see," Miss. Winters nodded her head, taking several moments to digest the information, "and you say you've seen elements of these traits throughout your marriage?"

Dean nodded his head.

"But you also said that Lindsay didn't," the lawyer made air quotes, "stop pretending," she said frowning, "until last summer. What do you mean by that?"

"Simple," Dean stated, resting his chin upon his right hand, "before, Lindsay pretended to care about my opinion. She would ask me about my feelings and would seem to take those into consideration whenever we had an argument – although that particular facet of her veneer faded away quickly enough. In short, once upon a time, she would pretend to care about _me._ Before, she would at least try to pull her weight in our day-to-day lives. While I was gone all day to work, she would tidy up the apartment a bit or make dinner, since she refused to get a job of her own to help us out financially. She wasn't particularly good at either cleaning or cooking, but at least she was trying to help. However, by the time summer came to a close, she'd stopped putting in the effort. I would clean the place before work and she'd make such a mess of it that by the time I got home, we'd have a fight over it. Incidentally, the only time she bothered with anything after that was when I fought with her about it or when she would want something."

Taking a deep breath, Dean continued, "Otherwise, I would come home after eighteen hour shifts, to find the apartment a mess, my wife having just returned from a day at the spa or shopping with her mother, and shrieking at me to make her dinner because she was hungry. Lindsay simply expected to sit back, relax and contribute nothing to our lives and marriage while I did everything for her. She started _deciding things –_ omitting my opinion altogether – saying that my opinion was stupid and short-sighted simply because it didn't align with hers. Then she began _demanding things_ – and when I failed to give them to her, she would simply try to take them. For our anniversary, I came home to find Lindsay had actually bothered to cook us a meal for first time in _months._ Not even two minutes into dinner, she pulls out a contract for the purchase of a _townhouse."_

Dean snorted, "Lindsay actually went out, _looked_ at some townhouses, and _chose_ one _without me_. And she actually expected me to smile and sign it like it was nothing – like I hadn't told her time and again that I didn't want to buy a townhouse. And when I refused – well, Lindsay did what she did best – she started screaming and throwing things. As a result, I was thrown out of the apartment – and I haven't slept there since."

"Ah," Miss. Winters nodded her head. "I see – that was more than a bit high-handed of her."

Dean laughed, " _That's nothing_. A few days later, I found out that Lindsay had signed my name on the contract and handed it over to the realtor. I wouldn't even have found out about it until it was too late, if I hadn't closed out our joint account at the bank, making the cheque Lindsay wrote the realtor useless."

"I'm sorry," Miss. Winters said incredulously, "do you mean to tell me that your wife fraudulently signed your name to a binding contract?"

"Yeah," he confirmed.

"Do you have proof?" she asked, stunned.

"I have the signed contract and Mrs. Dabbinsky, the realtor's, word that she would give a statement if needed."

The lawyer pursed her lips and seemed at a loss as to what to say for several long moments. Finally, the woman seemed to regain her pluck, "Good," she said, "it might prove useful. If nothing else, it could be used to press charges – which I highly recommend you do."

"Oh," Dean laughed, "I intend to."

Miss. Winters fiddled with her pen, a frown beginning to form upon her features, "Did I hear you say that you had closed your joint bank account?"

"Yes," Dean sighed, "after the stunt Lindsay pulled on our anniversary, I had decided that I was done – that I was getting a divorce. But, given Lindsay's propensity for retaliation and shopping, I didn't think leaving Lindsay access to our funds a good idea. I drained the account, closed it, and placed the money in a savings account where she couldn't access it."

Frowning, Miss. Winters replied, "You do realise that if you're trying to hide the money, it won't end well, do you? In fact, the court might demand you give your wife an even bigger pay out – and there might be charges involved."

"I'm not trying to hide the money," Dean stated firmly, "it's still in the same bank – in a savings account I've had since I was sixteen. An account that Lindsay knows about – and have been making regular deposits to, with Lindsay's knowledge. Granted, she never knew just how much the account held – but she never bothered trying to find out. She just assumed that there was next to nothing in it. So no, I'm not trying to hide the money. I just didn't want Lindsay to have ready access to it so that she could waste it all in one of her fits."

"But you do realise that once the divorce goes through your wife will be entitled to a portion of the money which was in your joint account, as well as any other funds you accrued during your marriage," Miss. Winters pointed out.

"Yes, I understand. I won't do anything to impede my wife from getting her _fair share_ ," Dean spat, "my sole interest is to ensure that she doesn't find a way to weasel out more than what she is owed."

The lawyer sighed and nodded her head, "So, I believe that we have covered your irreconcilable differences. Now, is there anything else I should be aware of before we proceed?"

"Yes," Dean replied, "matters have," he took a deep breath, "escalated in the past few days."

"Escalated?" Miss. Winters prompted, her right eyebrow arched.

He shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs, "Last Wednesday I returned to the apartment to retrieve some of my things and I found Lindsay in bed with another man."

"Ah," the woman nodded her head, "who was he?"

"I don't know," Dean sighed, "but something Lindsay said made me think that that wasn't the first time she'd cheated on me."

"Yes, well," Miss. Winters began, "unfortunately, I will need a bit more than that. Is there any way you could maybe find out who the man was? If we could get a statement from him or someone who saw the two together, it could go a long way to get the settlement in your favor."

Dean grimaced at the thought, "I suppose I could ask around a bit, see if anyone might know who he is."

"See that you do," she nodded, satisfied. She played with her pen for a moment or two, and sized him up, "Now, given that the question of infidelity will be on the table – I need to know. Have you cheated on your wife?"

Dean fidgeted, uncomfortable.

"I see," Miss. Winters answered a tinge of disappointment in her voice, "is this a widely known fact."

"No," Dean answered, startled, "it happened twice, with an old girlfriend – and nobody knows – I don't want anybody to know. I couldn't bare it if this affected my ex-girlfriend in any way."

His exhaled noisily, "As long as the incident remains under wraps, I will not bring the matter up. However, you realise that if your wife's lawyer gets wind of this at the wrong time, it might affect the outcome quite a bit."

"I understand," Dean answered, nodding his head.

"Is that all?"

"No," he stated miserably.

Frowning, Miss. Winters indicated that he should continue.

"Yesturday," Dean bit out, tensely, "my parents and sister went to clear out the apartment. The lease was up, I had decided to divorce Lindsay and had already all but officially moved out of the apartment – I decided I didn't want to pay out for another year so that Lindsay could have an apartment for herself. I figured she could move back into her parent's house, like I did. So I terminated the lease and my family went to clear the place out. They didn't take anything that belonged to Lindsay – not her clothes or the things she'd brought into the marriage or that her parents had bought her. My parents had lent me quite a few things to start us out, and they'd wanted to get those pieces back. My mom was also worried that Lindsay might throw a fit and damage the furniture, so she wanted to get everything out of the apartment to store it for safe keeping."

Dean snorted derisively, "Not that that would have made a difference. I hadn't been to the apartment for a couple of weeks and Lindsay hadn't bothered to clean anything up since then. She didn't even bother to pick up all the broken glass from the fit she'd had on our anniversary – and the damage she did that night… The facts are, that despite my mother's intentions, it was all a bit too little too late. Almost everything had already been damaged – including a few antiques that had belonged to my grandparents. Needless to say, my parents weren't too happy about it. So, when a neighbor walked up to them, asking if my dented and scratched washer was for sale – they didn't hesitate to say yes. They, of course, kept all of the family antiques – but most everything else got sold off."

"I'm going to go out a limb here and say that your wife took exception to that," his lawyer deadpanned.

"No-" Dean stated emphatically before his brow scrunched up in confusion, "I mean yes-" he groaned, "I don't know…"

Miss. Winters frowned.

Dean sighed, "My mom had already left with the truck and trailer – which stored most of everything they kept – and my dad was just packing up a few stray things into his car when Lindsay and her father showed up. They'd seen my dad coming out of the apartment with some bags, and Lindsay wanted to know what they were doing. Lindsay tried to get to the car, probably so she could take everything back. But Clara, my little sister, got in her way – so Lindsay pushed her. After that, my dad figured it would be better to just leave. But Mr. Lister wanted Clara to apologize to Lindsay for some reason and he grabbed a hold of her and hurt her. A couple of bystanders pulled him off of her and my dad punched him – but Lindsay –" Dean hissed, " _Lindsay started kicking her_."

 _"They attacked your sister?"_ Miss. Winters asked, shocked.

"Yeah," Dean chocked out, "she was rushed to the hospital with a dislocated shoulder, a broken wrist, three bruised ribs and a sprained ankle. I spent all night in the pediatrics' ward."

" _Pediatrics?"_ the woman hissed, "How old is your sister?"

"She'll turn fifteen this February," Dean answered.

Scowling, Miss. Winters asked, "What happened next?"

"Sheriff Jeffries came," Dean cleared his throat, "he arrested Lindsay, Mr. Lister and my father – but dad was released when mom went to pick him up. Apparently, the entire time he was there, Lindsay and Mr. Lister kept complaining that they had been wrongfully arrested – that my dad and Clara had stolen from Lindsay – even that Clara had attacked Lindsay first. It's a lie of course – Clara didn't so much as touch Lindsay. As for the stealing bit – well, most of what they took was theirs to begin with – the rest, which they sold, were all things that I had paid for. And I understand, that legally, those things were considered to be Lindsay's – but they were also mine – and they had my permission."

"Have your parents pressed charges as of yet? Has a report been filed?" Miss. Winters questioned.

"I don't know," Dean sighed, "we live in a small town where things like this _never_ happen. I don't think Sheriff Jeffries even knows what to do in this case. I do, however, know that the Sheriff called the incident in with the Hartford police. They came to the hospital in the early hours of the morning, wanting to get statements. My dad answered their questions, but they were just starting to talk with Clara when my mom made me leave so that I could get ready for our appointment."

"Well," Miss. Winters said, distracted, "that probably means that a report has been filed with the Hartford police," she shuffled around with her papers before pulling out a business card, "and given the severity of the situation, I have no doubt that your parents will be pressing charges."

"Yeah," Dean snorted derisively.

Miss. Winters wrote down a number on the business card, "Here," she said, "this is my cellphone number. Have your parents call me when they have a chance. I'd like to represent them in this matter, given that the assault is interlinked with your married life."

"Thanks," Dean said, caught off guard.

"Your welcome," Miss. Winters gave him a small smile, but her face quickly turned solemn once more, "just be sure that they call me as soon as they are able. Given what has happened, I would like to file restraining orders against your wife and Mr. Lister."

"Restraining orders?" he asked, confused.

"Yes," she sighed, "I believe it would be best if those two were kept as far away from you and your family as possible – especially since they have both proven to act violently in the face of confrontation."

"But," Dean began, perplexed, "can I even file a restraining order against my wife?"

"Given that she might have accidentally-on-purpose thrown a knife your way?" Miss. Winters laughed, "Yeah, we can. This latest stunt she pulled will only bolster the legitimacy of the order – and, as disgusting as it might be, will go a long way into helping you obtain a speedy divorce. We'll simply emphasize the tumultuous aspect of the situation. No doubt that, barring any excessive impediment on your wife's part, the state will wish to settle your divorce as quickly as possible so that it doesn't interfere with the assault cases."

* * *

 **Posted November 28th 2017**


	22. Burgers & Mugshots

**Author's Note:** Okay people, the last few chapters have pretty much been concentrated on the Foresters and Listers. In this chapter, we start to see a bit more of the Gilmore Girls. I hope you all like this.

As always, please review.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 21: Burgers & Mug Shots**

* * *

 **Monday October 18** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (The Dragonfly Inn) 9:19 a.m.**

" _No!_ " Lorelai exclaimed, shocked.

" _Yes,_ " Sookie emphasized.

Lorelai looked at Sookie, her expression utterly flabbergasted, " _No,"_ she repeated in utter disbelief, her hands thrown up in the universally acknowleged gesture of – _what the hell?_

Somewhat annoyed with the flagging conversation, Sookie raised a pointed eyebrow.

"Okay," Lorelai raised her arms up in surrender, "So, let me see if I've got this straight," she said as she made her way to the coffee pot, "Dean dropped his lease on the apartment, moved out without even bothering to tell his wife and word on the street has it the Forester/Lister marriage is over. Are we both on the same page so far?"

"Yes," Sookie nodded, giving her lobster bisque a vigorous stir.

"But Lindsay and her father walked in on the move just as Mr. Forester and Clara were wrapping things up?" Lorelai confirmed, pouring herself a large mug of coffee.

"Yeah," Sookie nodded her head and tasted the bisque, "just as they were about to leave too – another minute or two and they would have gotten away clean."

"But they didn't – they got caught," Lorelai clarified, befuddled, "angry, Lindsay tried to take Dean's things back from Mr. Forester –"

"But Clara intervened," Sookie cut in, "and Lindsay tried to push her out of the way."

"Right," Lorelai muttered, looking down at her coffee mug, frowning, "and the Foresters tried to walk away. But Mr. Lister wouldn't let them – and so he…" Lorelai trailed off, unsure if she had truly understood the town gossip properly.

"Grabbed a hold of Clara," Sookie stated, pointing her spoon in Lorelai's direction, "dragged her towards Lindsay and forced that poor girl down on her knees," the chef reinforced the image by pointing the spoon door to the floor, "yanking her arm back so far the joint popped out of its socket, and then screamed at her to apologise to Lindsay. By then, a couple of kids from the high school decided to intervene and managed to pull Mr. Lister off of her. Of course, some of the witnesses had to grab a hold of Mr. Forester – he was _furious_."

" _Really?"_ Lorelai said sarcastically, "I wonder why?"

Sookie shook her head, "Well, by then Mr. Forester had managed to get a good hit in – punched Mr. Lister right in the nose. Mrs. Cassini swore the man's face looked like the tail end of a red butted baboon."

"Good for him," Lorelai muttered, though she cringed at the image Sookie presented of Mr. Lister's face. Her father had taken her to the zoo when she was five – and Lorelai had never quite recovered from the sight of the red butted baboons. At that age, the butts in question had seemed to make up the better part of the baboon – a very unsightly part, in her opinion.

Lorelai shuddered, and was silent for several moments. Still her incredulity of the situation eventually overtook her once again, "I still can't believe it!" she exclaimed, "How could Mr. Lister attack Clara Forester? She's a fourteen year old girl!"

"Oh, you better believe it," Sookie said, wiping her hands upon her apron, "that's not even the worse of it."

"What do you mean?"Lorelai frowned.

"Well," Sookie began, turning towards her friend, "apparently, after Mr. Lister was pulled off of her, Lindsay actually started kicking Clara, while she was just lying there, on the ground."

" _What?"_ Lorelai hissed.

"Yeah," the chef squeaked out, disgust dripping in her tone, "Miss. Patty was right there when it happened. She was trying to get Clara to calm down when all of a sudden, Lindsay just started kicking her. Miss. Patty swore she tried to protect Clara, but Lindsay still managed to get a few good kicks in first."

Lorelai looked at Sookie, at a loss for words for once.

"And do you know what's even worse," Sookie asked, "I mean – of course, the two actually attacking Clara was the worst bit – but they actually made the situation even more _disgusting,_ " the red head snarled, "the entire time, even as Sheriff Jeffries was escorting them to the patrol vehicle, they kept insisting that they were being wrongfully arrested, that they had done nothing wrong – _and demanding that Mr. Forester and Clara be arrested and charges pressed against them!_ "

A month ago, when Rory had told her she had wanted to wait a little while before informing Dean of his impending fatherhood – stating that there was just too much drama – Lorelai hadn't agreed with her daughter. She had seen Rory's decision for what it was – a futile attempt to delay the inevitable chaos and pain that the news would bring. Rory had wanted to pretend – to ignore the reality of the situation she had placed herself in for as long as she feasibly could.

Lorelai hadn't agreed with the decision, though she had accepted it.

But now, Lorelai couldn't help but be thankful that Rory had chosen to bury her head down in the sand a little while longer.

Because, if Mr. Lister and Lindsay could attack a fourteen year old girl for helping her brother move out – what would either one of them do to the woman Dean had cheated on his wife with? The same woman who was now currently carrying his child?

Lorelai didn't want to think about it.

* * *

 **Monday October 18** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lister Residence) 7:13 p.m.**

Lindsay was furious.

As if the humiliation of being carted off to the police station and placed in a dank, dirty cell hadn't been enough, the indignities she had suffered had only worsened from that point on.

After spending hours, arguing with Sheriff Jeffries, attempting to make him see sense – the man had rudely announced that his shift was over. And for a brief moment, she had felt hope – but then that idiot buffoon named Kirk had come into the station, dressed in a deputy ensemble – and Lindsay realised that the man had no intention of releasing them that night.

Her parents had objected, of course. And once the Sheriff had left, they had all attempted to reason with Kirk – but the idiot had been unusually silent and stern.

Thus, they had resorted to contacting their lawyer in a bid to force the situation – but it had been Sunday at the time – and their lawyer had not been reachable until the following morning. And so, with no small amount of ire, she had felt all of the injustice in being forced to spend the night in a jail cell.

Her parents hadn't faired any better. Her father had been on the verge of an apoplectic fit and her mother had willed away the time venting her rage on the buffoun named Kirk.

And so, morning had finally dawned and Sheriff Jeffries had returned.

After successfully contacting their lawyer, they had imagined that it would be only a matter of a couple of hours before the mortifying and galling episode came at an end.

But it didn't.

For Sheriff Jeffries, under the orders of the Hartford police, set about processing them. Up until that point, they had not been arrested in as much as they had been detained. Once Sheriff Jeffries began this process, the case which their lawyer had planned to present to a judge for unlawful detainment became null and void.

She had tried to object – to leave – but a couple of officers from Hartford had been sent down to oversee Sheriff Jeffries' work – and Lindsay had to suffer through all the humiliation of posing for a mug shot and having her fingerprints taken.

When it had been her father's turn, the officers had shadowed him menacingly, leaving Lindsay with little doubt that they would use force if necessary.

By the time the whole mortifying process was over – it was past six o'clock in the evening.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 20** **th** **2004, Hartford (George Wick's Apartment) 11:09 a.m.**

George Wick scowled, as once again, his call was directed to Lindsay's voicemail.

He didn't understand what had gone wrong. Lindsay had texted _him_ first, not the other way around. _She_ had been the one that had wanted to meet Monday afternoon. And yet, _he_ had been the one who had been _stood up_.

And now, to add insult to injury, the bitch wouldn't even answer any of his calls.

If it had been _anyone_ else, George would have never put in so much effort.

But _Lindsay_ – well, _Lindsay was a spectacularly great fuck_ – and he had no intention of losing out on that front unless he absolutely had to.

Still, if she kept dodging him like this for much longer…

* * *

 **Wednesday October 20** **th** **2004, Yale (Dorm Hallway) 11:21 a.m.**

Rory hadn't seen him since Professor Flemming's wake – when she had foolishly announced to him, her grandmother and a room full of strangers that she was pregnant. So naturally, when she arrived at her dorm room to find him waiting for her, a nervous smile pulling at his lips, Rory found herself a tad shocked. After the way she had turned him down – and the ire he had displayed that night – Rory had honestly believed that she had seen the last of Marty. After, wasn't finding out that the girl you liked was pregnant with someone else's baby, one of the best reasons a guy could ever have to avoid her?

So, it was with more than a little hesitance that Rory approached her dorm room door and pulled out her keys.

"Hey," Marty squeaked out, greeting her with an awkward little wave of his right hand.

"Hey," Rory greeted him back, just as awkwardly.

The duo was silent as Rory put the key into the lock and turned it. Opening the door, she looked at Marty. After a minute of staring at each other awkwardly, Rory made to enter the dorm and make her goodbyes.

Marty, however, seemed to have caught on to what was about to happen. And the knowledge seemed to spur him into action, "So, uh," he began, clearing his throating, "I was hoping we could…" he trailed off for a moment, "talk?" Marty asked cautiously, throwing up his arms in a gauche manoeuver to appear more at ease than he actually was.

Rory stared at Marty for a moment, debating.

She hadn't liked the way he had talked to her that night. And although she could understand that he had been disappointed, Rory had trouble coming to terms with how dismissive he had been of her – how he had simply decided that she had turned him down for selfish reasons – and hadn't been willing to give her the chance to explain.

It had hurt – that Marty could think so meanly of her.

But Rory was self-aware enough to realise that it might not have hurt so much if his accusations hadn't held a grain of truth in them.

Because it was true – Rory didn't think of Marty that way. She had never thought of him that way – and likely never would have even if she had never gotten pregnant.

But Marty was her friend – the best friend she had made since entering Yale.

And Rory just couldn't turn him away without at least trying to mend their friendship.

Taking a deep breath, she gestured for Marty to enter the dorm.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 20** **th** **2004, Hartford (Medical Clinic) 11:26 a.m.**

Lindsay glared at the young, blonde receptionist seated behind the check-in desk, "I don't think you understand. My appointment was for 11:20. It is _now_ 11:26. Not only have I not yet been called into the doctor's office – but you mistakenly called someone else in my place. _I demand that the error be rectified at once."_

The receptionist smiled widely, her jaw tense, "As I have already informed you, _ma'am_ , there was no mistake. Mrs. Patterson's appointment was for 10:40. Thus, her appointment preceded _yours_."

"This is ridiculous," Lindsay hissed, "How could your doctor be more than _forty-minutes_ behind on his appointments? Such behavior is utterly _unprofessional._ "

"Yes, well," the receptionist simpered, "as with all other health care professionals, Doctor Morgan's schedule is dictated by his patients. He certainly can't throw one out before he has addressed the medical issue they have presented him with. _Now, if you will just return to your seat, the doctor will call for you when it is your turn."_

Lindsay sneered, prepared to object, "I –"

"Or," the perky little bitch cut in, " _would you prefer I call security to have you removed from the premises altogether?_ "

Seething, Lindsay gathered her purse and stiffly made her way back to her seat.

 _The gall of that horrid little gnome!_

How dare that woman treat _her,_ Lindsay Lister-Forester, _in that way?_

As if she had not already suffered enough in the past few days – _was she now to be subjected to such utter disrespect from a mere receptionist?_

Lindsay hissed as she sat down in the uncomfortable plastic chair. The curmudgeonly old crone sitting two seats down edged away from her, her ball of light green yarn falling to the floor as she did so.

Lindsay glared at the woman.

 _What an absolutely horrid week!_

Not only had she been wrongfully arrested and forced to spend the night – and the better part of the day on Monday – trapped in a dirty old cell – but her week had only gotten worse from then on. After spending Monday night in the comfort of her parents' home, her mother fussing over her after her harrowing ordeal, Lindsay had returned to her apartment Tuesday afternoon.

What she had found when she arrived had, in equal parts – horrified, disgusted and angered her.

 _Mr. Forester and his spawn had stolen much more than just her antique clock and her husband's clothes._

They had taken everything!

All that remained within the apartment was her bed, the armoire her mother had bought her and her clothes.

The floor was absolutely littered with broken glass.

Granted, the apartment hadn't been cleaned since she had kicked Dean out of on their anniversary…

 _But still –_ Lindsay was convinced that the Foresters had purposely broken quite a few of her pretty little baubles.

And what was worse – they had littered her floor with _trash!_

Everywhere she looked, Lindsay saw her discarded take-out boxes.

They hadn't even had the decency to clean everything up…

 _They had just dumped everything on the floor!_

And then – when she had called the Sheriff to report the crime – the man had the gall to laugh at _her._

Apparently, her _dear_ husband had gone and told the Sheriff that his family had removed her property with his permission. As a result, no matter how much she argued with the twit, the Sheriff had insisted that the Foresters had committed no crime.

But the worse – _oh, the absolute worse –_ came that morning, when she learned that the Foresters had sold the better part of _her_ things as they had robbed her blind.

And when Lindsay had called to confront her husband on the matter – her call had gone directly to voicemail…

 _The bastard had blocked her number!_

And now – _now that wretched assistant was treating her rudely!_

Oh – Lindsay couldn't wait for this appointment to be over and done with. Once she had what she needed, _she would positively crush her husband._

 _The bastard would never disobey her again!_

* * *

 **Wednesday October 20** **th** **2004, Yale (Rory's Dorm) 11:42 a.m.**

"And then," Marty laughed, "the idiot actually dropped his latte right onto Professor Adam's lap," he indicated his groin with his hands, "I swear, in that moment, I thought for sure he would kill Corbin."

"No," Rory laughed, "Professor Adam's a sweetie – he wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Well," Marty chuckled, "I have to tell you, that sweetie has quite the colorful language when a large, piping hot mocha latte with whip cream is unceremoniously dumped into his lap. His face was so red…"

"Duh," she exclaimed, "wouldn't yours have been the same if you'd received a hot latte to that particular part of your anatomy."

"I give," Marty raised his arms up in surrender, "you're right. My face would've been just as red as Professor Adam's was. In fact, mine might have been a tad redder – you know, on account of Corbin's blood and all that."

Rory scoffed and punched him in the shoulder.

Marty let out a full belly part, "I haven't even gotten to the worst part yet."

"What?" Rory asked, laughing, "What do you mean you haven't gotten to the worst part?"

"After Professor Adam's stormed off," Marty cleared his throat, "Corbin turned around and asked one of his friends if he thought his grade would suffer because of the latte incident."

"No!" Rory exclaimed, incredulous.

"Oh, yes he did," the man chuckled.

After several moments of uncontrollable laughter, the duo finally managed to calm down and silence filled the room once more.

When Marty had come into the dorm earlier that morning, Rory hadn't been quite sure what to expect. So, it was quite unexpected when, out of the blue, Marty started talking about his uncle Frank. It wasn't until she was crying from laughing so hard that Rory understood what Marty was up to. He was trying to find a way to break the ice – to stall even – anything that would give him the chance to work up the nerve to address the awkward situation they now found themselves in. And Rory didn't care – she hadn't laughed so much in a long time – and it felt good.

So what if they danced around the elephant in the room for a few minutes – who would it hurt in the long run?

"Rory?" Marty asked, hesitantly.

Then again, an elephant could never be ignored indefinitely, "Yeah?"

"Could we…" he trailed off, fidgeting, "could we just forget what happened at the wake? Could we just pretend nothing happened and go back to the way we were?"

Rory sighed, "That depends."

"On what?" Marty asked, biting his lip.

"On whether or not you think you can be in my life knowing we'll just be friends," Rory told him honestly.

Marty chuckled, and nodded his head, "I deserve that I guess."

"Marty–" Rory began.

"No, Rory, it's fine," Marty cut her off, "I really didn't handle the situation too well and I'm man enough to admit I was a jerk. To be honest, I knew you only saw me as a friend – but I pushed things anyway. And then I got angry when things didn't go my way. I acted like a two year old – throwing a fit because he'd been denied a treat."

"Yeah, but," Rory bit her lip, "you kind of had point."

"Maybe," Marty sighed, "but I was the one that decided to be your friend despite the fact that I wanted more – and that I knew that you didn't. I didn't have the right to bite your head off when you were simply telling me what I already knew."

Rory deflated and the duo was silent for several long minutes.

"So," Rory said dejectedly, "what now?"

Marty looked at her for a long moment, "Friends?" he asked, smirking.

Rory laughed, "Yeah, friends."

"Lunch?" Marty chuckled.

"Yes, please," Rory stood up from her place on the couch, grabbing her purse as she made her way towards the door.

"The Chinese buffet on Princess Street?" he asked.

"Why," Rory said in a horrible, faux southern accent, "I do believe you've read my mind."

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Luke's Dinner) 12:03 p.m.**

Dean chuckled as he watched his sister attack her burger with relish.

It was a gigantic thing – double beef patty with cheddar, all-dress, salad, tomato, red onions and Canadian bacon – all served on a big sesame bun. It stood nearly three inches tall – so tall that his sister required both of her hands just to hold onto it properly. And, despite her bests efforts, whenever she bit into it, Clara could never manage to get the whole thing in one go. Instead, she had to eat it in layers – first bite, top layer – second bite, bottom layer.

Despite this, she would hardly succeed in swallowing down one bite before she inhaled another.

It made Dean want to laugh.

One would almost think that Clara had been starved for days by the way she was gobbling down her food…

A hitch rose up his throat as Dean realised that, for all intents and purposes, his little sister might as well have been starved. For just that morning, Clara had been released from a four day stay at the hospital – and no hospital, no matter how well funded, was known for its outstanding cuisine.

Looking at Clara now, it was hard to ignore the sting in his eyes. Despite the fact that his little sister was obviously happy, Dean couldn't help but feel that the moment was marred by the splotches of bruises that peppered the base of Clara's neck, shoulder and face. Her left wrist, wrapped in a cast, only reminded Dean all the more that, despite the levity of the present moment, all was far from well in his own little world.

Still, Clara laughed around a mouthful of burger as their mother glared at her.

" _Clara_ ," Jane Forester reprimanded, "slow down, you're going to choke at this rate."

In response to which, Clara simply gave their mother an impish smirk as she continued to chew eagerly. Their father, seated between Dean and Clara, laughed for the first time in days, amused by her antics. Their mother, although visibly annoyed with her daughter, couldn't quite keep a smile from tugging at the corner of her lips.

Looking pointedly at their mother, Clara tore another bite out of her hamburger.

At the sight, Dean actually did laugh – for it was all too clear to him what his little sister meant to convey to their mother…

 _If I choke on this burger and die, it will not be in vain._

As both Dean and his father laughed, Jane Forester's features contorted in exasperation and amusement. The hesitation between the two sentiments did not last for long, and soon enough the woman regained control of herself long enough to cast a stern, forbidding glare in Clara's direction.

The teenager, reluctantly, began to breathe in between mouthfuls – though not long enough to make much of a difference in Dean's opinion.

It did, however, seem to appease their mother – and for that alone, Dean was more than willing to keep his opinion to himself. His mother had been in quite the state that week – both of his parents had. He had never seen them so worried – nor so furious. After having returned from his meeting with Miss. Winters last Monday morning, his parents had taken to the lawyer's suggestion with alacrity. Within the hour, Miss. Winters had officially been hired to represent not only Dean in his divorce, but Clara in her suit against Mr. Lister and Lindsay.

It was late on Wednesday evening when they had received the call from Miss. Winters. She had confirmed that all the pertinent papers had been put in and the charges had been filed.

And so it was with a lighter heart that the Foresters had fetched Clara from the hospital that morning. It was their hope that, with the matter now addressed through official channels, events would swiftly be set in motion. They wanted nothing more than for the nightmare they presently found themselves in to be at an end.

* * *

 **Posted December 3rd 2017**


	23. Rewriting History

Okay everyone, this one's shorter than what I have been posting as of late. But I felt it was important for the chapter to end where it did. I believe you will all understand why once you have read it – although more than a few of you will be liable to be quite angry with me…

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 22: Rewriting History**

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Clementine Street)12:37 p.m.**

Lindsay Lister-Forester marched down Clementine Street with a fearsome scowl upon her face. Having found the Forester residence devoid of its inhabitants, Lindsay was more than just a tad annoyed. The blonde had walked up to the door, puffed up on the knowledge that she had everything she needed to put her disobedient husband in his place, all for her plan to fall to nought at finding the man and his family out of house.

It seemed, in Lindsay's astute opinion, that the Foresters planned to do everything they could to inconvenience her that week.

It had taken all of her natural grace and serene temperament to prevent Lindsay from shrieking at the knowledge that she had been thwarted once more, however temporarily. The very fact that Lindsay even had to temper her emotions in the face of such cruelty, only angered her all the more. However, the blonde had noticed more than one glaring eye cast in her direction, and felt it would be prudent to retain her composure in public…

 _At least until all those awful little rumours about her daddy and herself attacking Clara Forester unprovoked were cleared up and exposed for the villainous lies they truly were._

With renewed determination, Lindsay swiftly made her way towards the town square, hoping to find Dean at work at Doose's. With every step she took, Lindsay's resentment mounted at the sight of several glowering town folk, huddled together, whispering lies about her family and sneering at her as if she was the worst sort of scoundrel.

They would pay.

 _They would all pay._

The Foresters most of all.

Once Lindsay had regained control of her stubborn, idiot husband, she would see to it that Mr. Forester and his bitch of a conniving little daughter received their just do.

Lindsay could hardly contain her glee at the thought – of justice being served to those who so richly deserved it. She would see to it that they rued the day they had crossed her and her family.

And Dean…

Well, Dean would be made to understand that he owed his loyalty to _her_. From this day forward, Lindsay not only expected him to completely submit to her, but to give her due deference. In addition, her husband would no longer be allowed to associate with those base and vile creatures from whence he came. It was now quite clear to Lindsay, that the Foresters did not have her best interests at heart, and thus could not be trusted. And if they could not be trusted, they could not be allowed to have _any_ influence whatsoever over her husband.

But this would be but the first of her demands.

Lindsay had suffered such humiliation, _such degradation_ , all due to Dean and his family. And the spiteful blonde had every intention of making the fool pay for every wrong and for every disgrace.

That Dean would suffer was never in question – nor that he'd suffer for years to come.

Lindsay, after all, had no intention of forgiving the bastard anytime soon.

She did, however, have every intention of making the jerk crawl through glass to beg for her forgiveness – and then some.

Just as Lindsay began to delight in the thought of every little sufferance she planned to visit upon her husband, the blonde caught a glimpse of the man as he exited Luke's Dinner. Behind Dean, his brute of a father followed, holding the door open as his wife and daughter exited. As the women crossed the threshold, Mrs. Forester had her arms wrapped protectively around Clara. And as they began to descend the steps, Mr. Forester laid a hold of Clara's right arm, the teenager's parents doing all they conceivably could to ensure their daughter wouldn't tumble down the steps as she hobbled forward.

The very sight sickened Lindsay.

 _That conniving little bitch,_ the blonde thought as she watched Mrs. Forester smile at her husband, clearly relieved that Clara had made it down the steps unscathed.

The blonde hissed…

Every time Lindsay and her parents had walked into town that week, they had been faced with an alarming number of disgruntled glares and harsh whispers. Some, had even hissed as they walked by. The Listers, however, had resolutely ignored their neighbours' rude behaviour, convinced that the truth of the matter would soon be exposed. At which point, The Listers had every intention of making their neighbours feel the full weight of their mistake, shaming them most justly for their baseless snubs.

However, as the week progressed, the lies persisted and the snubs became much more overt. Now, faced with the image of the spectacle before her, it was no longer a wonder to Lindsay why the gullible people of Stars Hollow were treating her family with such open distain.

 _It was truly disgusting._

The lengths the Foresters would go to, just to attempt to give weight to their baseless lies.

It all just made Lindsay so mad – that such guile, such wickedness could exist in her small, peaceful, little town.

And the poor people of Stars Hollow, being taken for the fools they truly were – such awful, wretched unscrupulous villains. The temptation Lindsay felt, to rush forward and expose the Foresters for what they truly were, nearly consumed her. The thought nearly sent Lindsay into a fit of ecstasy – the idea of ripping that useless cast from Clara's arm, revealing to one and all that the little bitch was faking it. The shame, the humiliation which would be reaped upon the Foresters would be unmatched by that which the Lister family had felt upon the unlawful arrest of two of its members – but it would be a marvelous start to a well-deserved downward spiral. For, once their perfidy exposed, the Foresters would doubtlessly be scorned by the residents of Stars Hollow – perhaps even to the point where the scum might be forced to leave town.

 _Oh, the very thought was divine._

And it would be very convenient for Lindsay's plans. She wouldn't have to worry about Dean getting any ideas of visiting his scheming relatives, especially if those relatives were forced to settle somewhere far, far away.

Despite all of the many reasons to bring the Foresters' scheme to an end, Lindsay held herself in check. For one, she very much doubted that the little bitch was bright enough to successfully carry the fib on for much longer than a couple of days. Sooner, rather than later, Clara Forester would give herself away and vindication would follow. The Foresters would be exposed, and the Listers would be praised for their forbearance in the face of such adversity.

Besides, Lindsay had much more important matters to attend to – the chief of which was reeling her husband back in line.

And so, Lindsay watched, disgruntled, as Dean's family made their way to their car.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Outside Luke's Dinner)12:42 p.m.**

Dean sighed as he watched the hatchback drive off down Lilac Street. Watching his fourteen year old sister gingerly hobble to the car had been painful. It also made him feel so ashamed of himself – for he knew all too well that he was as much to blame for Clara's injuries as Lindsay and Mr. Lister. If only he had never married Lindsay, then Clara wouldn't be hobbling her way around town. Or, perhaps if he had simply manned up and faced the reality of his failed marriage sooner, then maybe his little sister would have been spared such an ordeal.

But he hadn't done either of those things. He had chosen the coward's way out. He had married a woman he didn't love simply because he was attempting to prove a point, to move on with his life and do what was expected of him. And in the process of doing so, Dean had married a self-centered, greedy, violent little sloth. And what was worse, once he had understood his situation, he had chosen to try and ignore it, hoping against all hope that things would eventually get better. Rather than taking the appropriate steps to rectify the situation, Dean had once again chosen the coward's way out. He had procrastinated and made excuses – all so he could spare himself the humiliation of having to admit his wrong – _and his parents the pain of realizing their beloved daughter-in-law was a hateful shrew._

He should have just faced it from the start head on.

 _Why couldn't he have faced it head on from the start?_

Because it had been easier to pretend nothing was wrong, and hope that the situation would simply right itself.

 _And that killed him._

Knowing that he had chosen to do what was _easy_ over what was _right_ – and that his _fourteen year old sister_ was paying the price for his choice – it ate away at him like nothing else ever had in his life.

Overwrought, Dean attempted to swallow down the sting in his throat and eyes. He had only just achieved mild success when he was rudely shoved from behind, " _Dean Forester,"_ his wife's voice hissed at him, " _How dare you, you bastard?"_

Turning around to face his greatest mistake, Dean didn't even get the chance to regain his bearings before Lindsay, sneering and hissing, rushed forward and shoved him a second time. Dean stumbled, nearly falling to the ground as he was shoved off the sidewalk. Thankfully, he was able to catch himself at the last moment, although his ankle twisted uncomfortably in the process.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Outside Luke's Dinner)12:44 p.m.**

Lindsay felt a thrill of satisfaction as her husband groaned in pain. She hoped the jackass had sprained his ankle. It wasn't even close to the least the bastard deserved, but it would be a great start. The blonde felt a smile pulling at her lips, but she quickly schooled her features, lest she risked tarnishing her reputation as a sweet, gentle and selfless young woman.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Outside Luke's Dinner)12:44 p.m.**

Unbeknownst to Lindsay, that particular image of her character had long been swept away, along with her marriage – Suzie McClare had seen to _that,_ months ago. The poor dear had spent the better part of a year living in the apartment next to Dean and Lindsay's. She, more than anyone else, had been privy to the couple's married life, as the walls of the apartment complex were rather thin – and Lindsay was not one to moderate her volume in the heat of anger. Needless to say, quite a few details pertaining to the Forester/Lister marriage made their way through the gossip vine, as poor, dear Suzie was quite prone of complaining to her mother in the aftermath.

Thus, Lindsay's hitherto stellar reputation slowly, but surely began to accumulate damage. It was not, however, until last Sunday's incident that Lindsay's carefully constructed reputation was utterly and completely destroyed. Her unwarranted attack of an injured and helpless Clara Forester had revealed her to be as she truly was to the good people of Stars Hollow. Despite Lindsay's belief to the contrary, none of her neighbours held any delusions as to her character anymore. Those who had been shocked and reticent to accept the gossip about the Lister family had been quickly convinced by the sheer vehemence of the witnesses.

The Listers would no longer be well received within the streets of Stars Hollow.

Miss. Patty had every intention of seeing to that – especially as she caught a glimpse of Lindsay Lister smiling at her husband's pain.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Outside Luke's Dinner)12:44 p.m.**

" _Wasn't it enough?"_ Lindsay hissed, pointing an accusing finger in Dean's direction.

Dean, on the other hand, could barely make heads or tails of what was going on. He'd been caught off guard and had yet to manage to make sense of what was happening around him – and the painful throbbing in his right ankle certainly didn't help matters.

" _For months now, you've done nothing but ignore me – my opinions, my wants and my needs. Yet, you get angry when I don't cater to your every whim – when I don't have time to clean up the apartment or to make dinner for you,"_ the anger in Lindsay's voice began to dissipate, replaced with a sadness that was as artificial as it was deep.

" _And then you verbally abuse me,"_ the blonde sobbed out theatrically, _"calling me names and saying such awful things about me. But I ignore it. I set it aside for the good of our marriage,"_ Lindsay gestured widely, _"But you don't care about any of that, do you?"_ she hissed, reaching forward and jabbing Dean in the chest.

Dean groaned as he was forced to shift his injured ankle. His jaw tightened in anger – but the man was rendered mute by the absurdity – by the sheer audacity of his wife. He watched in utter disbelief as she shook her head in mock disappointment with false tears running down her face.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Outside Luke's Dinner)12:45 p.m.**

Lindsay sniffled loudly and took a deep, shuddering breath to add to the affect. Despite her heartbroken appearance, Lindsay was in all actuality quite gleeful at the moment. Her confrontation with Dean was turning out so much better than she could ever had hoped. Although Lindsay was less than keen with the notion of airing her personal affairs in public, she couldn't deny that the practice seemed effective.

There she stood, surrounded by a crowd of concerned citizens, listening attentively to her plight. Before her, her husband stood mute as she chastised him, his eyes darting back and forth between her person and the witnesses who surrounded them. Lindsay felt like smirking, for she had little doubt that the blush currently suffusing her husband's features was due to the shame of his actions. At the same time, Lindsay felt a great sense of vindication as she exposed all of her husband's wrongs to the sympathetic spectators. Lindsay could tell, that with every word she uttered, the crowd was growing more restless, more incensed at her suffering – and she couldn't help but think that this would go a long way towards extinguishing all those awful lies about her and her daddy.

" _No, you don't,"_ Lindsay cries out, " _And you go off in a rage because I had the audacity to go out, and have a little bit of fun with some friends."_

Releasing a deep, shuddering sob, Lindsay decided to up the ante, " _And when I call you, to give you the chance to apologize for your behavior – you not only hang up on me, but you send your family to steal from me and destroy my property!"_

" _Do you know what it felt like?"_ Lindsay howled, " _Coming home to find your brute of a father packing away my antique clock?"_

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Outside Luke's Dinner)12:45 p.m.**

Dean's nostrils flared at Lindsay's blatant lies. He couldn't believe this – that Lindsay could just lie in public like this – that she felt she could just make him out to be the worst sort of monster and believe she could get away with it. Worse, that she could honestly believe that any of this would get her what she wanted.

" _And your sister,"_ his wife wailed, " _Oh your sister! Your awful, awful sister."_

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Outside Luke's Dinner)12:46 p.m.**

Luke Danes reached out and put a steadying hand on Dean's shoulder. With wild eyes, the boy yanked his shoulder out of Luke's hand, but thankfully didn't make any move towards his wife. Instead, nostrils flaring, Dean sneered at Lindsay as if she was the most revolting person he had ever known.

Luke couldn't fault the guy. Despite being a relative hermit at times, even he had heard what Lindsay and her father had done to Clara Forester – how Mr. Lister had attacked the teenage girl and how Lindsay did likewise once her father had been removed from the girl.

Luke didn't doubt that the crowd at large was more than a little disgusted with the young blonde, and the spectacle she was currently making of herself wasn't going to help things.

" _The things she said – the things she did!"_ Lindsay sobbed, shaking her head.

"What she did?" Miss. Patty repeated, astounded at Lindsay's audacity.

" _I always knew she didn't like me,"_ Lindsay cried out, seemingly hysterical, " _But to attack me?"_

"Attack you?" Dean roared.

Worried, Luke grabbed a hold of Dean's shoulders and held him in place. The guy struggled against him, but Luke refused to let him go. Dean wasn't in any state to think clearly at the moment, and was liable to do something which he might regret later.

Around them, the crowd murmured and grew even more restless, more incensed at Lindsay's blatant lies.

" _I can only thank God that Daddy was there to stop her,"_ several people hissed at that, " _If he hadn't, who knows what would have happened? I could have even lost the baby!"_ Lindsay wailed hysterically.

* * *

 **Posted December 5th 2017**


	24. A Hollow Victory

**Author's Note:** Brownie points go to sweetreader, you caught on quick. Unfortunately, we're not quite there yet. So hold on, the drama isn't over yet. I'm glad all of you enjoyed the last chapter. I hope you will enjoy this one just as much. Be sure to review and tell me what you think. This one's a big deviation from the original WS. I would like to thank my faithful reviewers, Droolia, sweetreader, YaleAceBella12 and Sara1287

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 23: A Hollow Victory**

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Outside Luke's Dinner)12:47 p.m.**

Lindsay let out a deep shuddering sob and raised her hands to hide her face. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her tear-filled face and looked around at the stunned faces of the crowd. Her husband stared at her, mute and ashen faced. It had finally happened – the idiot had finally comprehended all that he had put her through – and was now thoroughly horrified and ashamed of his actions.

The thought of staying there, of making Dean apologise to her in public crossed her mind. It, however, was swiftly dismissed. Although Lindsay would gain a great deal of satisfaction at seeing her husband's humiliation at having to beg and plead for her forgiveness in public, it was not what Lindsay wanted.

True, she wanted him to capitulate to her in every way.

However, she wanted him to suffer first – to feel the same humiliation she had felt when she had walked down the street that morning. She wanted Dean to know what it felt like for his neighbours to glare and whisper as he passed by. And although Lindsay had little doubt that, after all she had revealed, the good people of Stars Hollow would treat him in such an infamous manner – Lindsay couldn't help but feel that their ire might be softened by the sight of her husband brought so low.

Sobbing hysterically, Lindsay shook her head in feigned mortification, and covered her eyes with her hands once more. Presenting a dejected, abused form, Lindsay darted through the crowd, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was bumping into several individuals along the way.

Lorelai Gilmore, who had watched the scene unfolding before her with wide eyes, received the harshest bump of all. Later, when the shock of the scene finally wore off, several witnesses would claim that Lindsay hadn't accidentally bumped into Lorelai at all. But rather that the blonde had brushed by Lorelai, and took the opportunity to shove the woman to the ground as she passed by.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lister Residence)12:58 p.m.**

Reginald Lister sighed as he relaxed into his favorite armchair and read the morning newspaper.

The week had begun quite badly – with both he and his daughter having been unjustly detained by Sherriff Jeffries and forced to spend their night in a cell. The degradation of being processed like common criminals had only been one of the many wrongs perpetrated against his family that week. As if all of the above hadn't already been quite enough, his daughter then discovered that those disgusting, greedy Foresters had stolen all of her possessions. But worst still, Sheriff Jeffries proved his incompetence once more, stating emphatically that no crime had been committed as the Foresters had had Dean's permission to remove his daughter's effects from her home. To add to this, his lawyer had attempted to convince him that pressing charges would not be in his best interest.

Reginald took in a deep breath in an attempt to regulate his temper. The only good thing that had happened that week was that his daughter had announced her pregnancy. Although, given the circumstances, the news might not be such a good thing. He had never believed that Dean Forester was good enough to be married to his special little girl. But Lindsay had wanted him, and Reginald Lister had not been in the habit of denying his only daughter. However, given all the recent upset, he couldn't help but be displeased with the thought that that hooligan would forever be tied to his little girl.

Perhaps he could convince Lindsay to divorce the boy and take him for all he was worth. Granted, the boy wasn't worth much – but his daughter deserved to be compensated for all that the fiend had put her through.

But of this, Reginald Lister thought no more, for his attention was caught by the sound of someone knocking upon his door.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence)1:01 p.m.**

Rory chuckled as her mother, having dashed out of the house, dragged her out of Marty's car and hugged her tightly. Behind them, Babette walked out of her house and waved, "You're home early today, doll," she said.

"Yeah," Rory laughed, "Professor Croons had a…" she searched for an appropriate term for a laxative induced diarrhea, "An emergency."

Marty laughed as he took Rory's bags out of the trunk.

With that, Babette's gaze zeroed in on Marty, "Why, hello there," the woman looked at him in eager curiosity, "What's your name, sugar?"

"Marty," he replied, laughing.

Rory, for her part, began to frown as her mother showed no intention of releasing her in the immediate future.

"Uh," Rory dropped her arms from around her Lorelai, "Mom?"

"Oh," Lorelai startled, "Right. Sorry," she said releasing Rory quickly.

Her frown deepening, Rory looked at her mother with growing concern. The woman was acting very strange – even for Lorelai Gilmore.

Under her scrutiny, her mother began to fidget and her eyes darted backwards and forwards.

"So," Lorelai began, "Professor Croon's emergency?"

"A prank by one of the freshman," Marty answered as he exited the house, having deposited Rory's bags in the entrance hall. Looking at his watch, he sighed, "I have to get going now, Rory. If I miss even a minute of great-grandma Esther's 90th birthday bash, that woman will have my head on a pike. I swear, for a little old lady, she sure packs one hell a smack when she wants to – at least according to my cousin. I've only ever been on the receiving end of one of her infamous glares myself – but let me tell you, you do not want to get one of those. I swear, sometimes I wonder if she wasn't one of those secret operatives during the war. She says she was a secretary with the allied forces – but when she says it, great-grandma Esther always smiles in that mysterious, satisfied way that reminds me of a cat that got a hold of the canary."

"Okay," Rory laughed.

Awkwardly, Lorelai waved at Marty, "Thanks for seeing her home."

"You're welcome," Marty said as he climbed into his old sunfire.

As Marty pulled out of the drive, Babette, who had been keenly observing the scene before her, was distracted by the sound of her phone ringing.

Rory frowned, watching her mother cringe as Babette excitedly returned to her home, "Everything okay, mom?"

"Huh," Lorelai responded, startled.

Rory looked at the woman incredulously, "Okay, seriously, what's up with you? You're acting weird."

"What do you mean?" Lorelai all but squealed, "I always act weird. You know that – I'm famous for it."

Rory raised an eyebrow at her mother's attempt at sidestepping the issue.

"Let's go into the house," her mother insisted, quickly herding her through the door and locking it behind them.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence)1:03 p.m.**

Clara felt like she'd been hacked to pieces and reduced to mush after being run over by a steam engine. A part of her actually wished she had been run over by a train. Clara couldn't help but think that that would have hurt less – although the end result would not have been enviable. Still, Clara felt like all of her nerves had been flayed open. The right side of her scalp was painful and itchy as it scabbed where Reginald Lister had managed to yank out patches of her hair. Her left wrist was wrapped up in a bulky cast which was making her arm sweat and her right ankle was swollen from a sprain. This of course, didn't take into account her scabbed knees, her bruised ribs and cheekbone – nor any of the numerous other bruises that littered her body.

It was _hell._

And Clara Forester simply couldn't wait for this awful week to be over.

But it wasn't – and if the ominous, heavy weight she felt between her shoulder blades was any indication, the week wouldn't end without another incident.

She hated feeling like this – like there was a sense of impending doom in the air. Her mother had tried to convince her that it was simply the stress and trauma of recent events. But Clara knew this feeling well. It was the same feeling she had before news of grandma Edith's death had reached them – and the same feeling she had felt when Dean had started dating Lindsay.

Something was coming…

And she had no idea _what._

Clara took several deep breaths and tried to distract herself with happier things. After two years of ignoring her advice, her brother had finally gotten his head out of his ass and decided to leave Lindsay. She didn't know exactly how long it would take for Dean to obtain a divorce, but Miss. Winters had promised to try and rush the process due to the circumstances.

This news alone should have made her feel like jumping for joy – but it didn't. Oh, she was happy that the shrew was getting the boot, there was no mistake about that. But this didn't feel like the happy ending she had always imagined. Though, Clara supposed that could be because Rory wasn't there to celebrate with them. When she dreamed of this day, she'd always imagined that Rory would be right beside her family, ready to get back together with Dean. Except that, through some well-intentioned sisterly snooping, Clara had learned that Dean and Rory weren't talking to each other at the moment. It made Clara angry because she was convinced that, once again, Lindsay was at the root of the latest problem in her brother's life. She had, after all, heard of Lindsay's and Mrs. Lister's confrontation with the Gilmore girls a few weeks back.

Not that the cause really mattered in the end. The effect was still the same. And the effect was that it made it difficult for Clara to get what she wanted – which was to have Rory as a sister-in-law.

 _Was that just too much to ask?_

Clara didn't think it was. But then again, she was just a teenager – and as her mother was fond of saying – she didn't understand the mysterious ways of adulthood.

Clara scoffed at the notion. The fact was, she did understand all too well. Everything had to be complicated with adults – they just couldn't let things be. No, they had to make themselves suffer for ridiculous, convoluted reasons – and take five left turns where a right would suffice.

Clara groaned at the thought. If she let things be – they would take an eternity to sort themselves out – and she didn't have that kind of patience. But what on earth could she do? Her brother sure as hell wouldn't tell her what was wrong. And she wouldn't be able to set the idiot straight until she knew what needed to be fixed.

The teenager pouted for several long moments before inspiration struck.

 _The letter!_

Sometimes, Clara couldn't help but think that everyone underestimated her genius.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lister Residence)1:07 p.m.**

Lindsay Lister-Forester watched the scene before her, gobsmacked.

 _How had it come to this?_

Everything had been going so well. She had put her disobedient husband back in his place, publically shaming him in the process. She had even managed to put the record straight as to what had truly occurred with that little Forester bitch last Sunday. All that had been left for her to do was to sit back, wait for her husband to come back to her groveling and gloat as the Foresters received their just deserts.

But then, having turned onto Plum Avenue, Lindsay was arrested by the sight of her father, cursing and struggling as he was dragged out of their house by two Hartford police officers. Struck dumb, Lindsay watched as her mother, incensed, shrieked at the officers, " _This is ridiculous. There can be no grounds for my husband's arrest – release him at once!"_

The officers, however, devoid of any decency as they were, simply ignored her mother's plea and continued to drag her father towards the patrol vehicles. A crowd had gathered to the right side of the scene, watching, speculating as Reginald Lister was wrongfully arrested. To them, Lindsay looked for her father's salvation. _Surely,_ the blonde thought, _one of them would intervene on her poor father's behalf._

But not a single one of them did.

They all just stood there, watching as the tragedy unfolded before their eyes. Frantic, Lindsay's eyes flickered from one individual to the next, searching for a savior. Catching sight of a dark blue vest, Lindsay frowned. It took her a moment for the image to truly sink in, and for the blonde to realise that two more Hartford PD officers were holding back the crowd as her father was dragged to the police vehicle.

Lindsay sneered at the realisation.

In her fury, the blonde swiftly attributed the bystanders' lack of action as cowardice upon their part, and dismissed them altogether. It didn't once cross her mind that the gathered audience might be pleased by the sight of her father brought so low, or satisfied in the knowledge that justice was being served.

In her distress over her father's unlawful arrest, Lindsay missed all of the signs which would have allowed her to discern this fact.

And so, once more, Lindsay allowed her temper to get the better of her. Rushing towards her poor, abused father, the blonde shrieked at the officers, " _What are you doing?"_

But much like her mother, Lindsay was ignored by the officers. Having reached the first of the two patrol cars parked in the driveway, one of the officers reached out a hand to open the backseat door. Reginald Lister, however, seeing an opportunity, elbowed the vulnerable officer in the ribs.

Let it here be known that Mr. Lister's scheme failed quite spectacularly. For, rather than gain him his freedom, the attempt resulted in the officers tightening their hold upon him and forcing his face down painfully into the hood of the patrol car.

Enraged at the sight, Lindsay grabbed a hold of one of the officers, and attempted to yank the miscreant away from her beloved daddy, " _Let him go,"_ Lindsay shrieked, insisting justice be served.

Her father, in the same vein, cursed up a storm and struggled against the officers. These actions, naturally, were supported with continued threats to sue them all.

" _You heard him! You don't have the right to do this,"_ Lindsay hissed, realising her efforts were failing. Incensed, the blonde raised her right hand and firmly slapped one of the officers across the face, " _Let him go!"_ Lindsay repeated her demand.

The voices of the crowd grew louder, harsher. And for one moment, Lindsay had honestly believed that she had carried her point – that the brutes assaulting her father would tuck tail and run. Instead, the officer she struck looked down upon her, glaring. She gasped at his audacity and was prepared to strike once more. However, before she could do much more than pull back her hand, two red-faced officers descended upon her. Grabbing hold of her, they extricated her from the officer arresting her father.

Shrieking, Lindsay demanded to be released. The red-faced officers, however, ignored her.

" _You're hurting me_!" Lindsay shrieked.

"You get your hands off my daughter right this instant you mongrel," Shannon Lister snarled, pointing a threating finger in the officers direction, "I swear I will have all of your badges for this."

For a long moment, everything grew still. The officers attempting to force her father into the patrol vehicle paused and looked in her direction. The men holding her against her will stilled and shared a long look with the other officers before the brute to her left reaffirmed, "Your daughter?"

The blonde shrieked as the officer's hold on her person tightened, " _Let me go!"_ Lindsay insisted.

Sneering, Shannon Lister hissed, " _You-"_

Her rebuke, however, would forever remain a mystery.

Cutting off Mrs. Lister, the second officer clarified, "Mrs. Lindsay Lister-Forester?"

 _"Yes, you brute!"_ Lindsay screeched, _"Now let me go!"_

The two officers restraining her shared a look. Then, with a nod to their compatriots, who by then were struggling to force Mr. Lister into their patrol vehicle, the officer to Lindsay's left reached down into his patrol vest. A shiny pair of silver handcuffs glittered in the sunlight as the officers worked together to pull Lindsay's hands behind her back. Humiliated, horrified and terrified at what was happening, Lindsay began to wail and thrash wildly against the officers detaining her. But the men wouldn't let her go, no matter how often she assured him that they was making a very big mistake and that they had absolutely no right to do this to her.

But then, just as the officer was about to put the cuffs around her wrists, a young man, dressed in jeans and a black leather coat intervened, "Excuse me, Officer Johnson. Would you mind?"

Officer Johnson rolled his eyes, "Fine," he grudgingly agreed, releasing his hold on Lindsay's right wrist, "but be quick about it Colson."

Colson nodded in understanding and stepped towards Lindsay and the two officers. The blonde, in the meantime, realizing one of the officers had released her, thrashed valiantly against the second officers hold. However, no matter how much she tried, the officer refused to release her. Defeated, she looked upon the man, Colson, with some measure of hope. If he had been able to convince Officer Johnson to release her, surely he could do the same with the second buffoon?

Standing less than two feet away from the blonde, Colson verified his information, "Lindsay Lister-Forester?"

"Yes," Lindsay answered tearfully, sniffling a bit as she did so. Sincere in the belief that help was now at hand, her hysterics had calmed considerably.

At her affirmative, Colson grinned so widely that Lindsay began to feel the urge to smile back flirtatiously. Colson was quite an attractive specimen, after all – and Lindsay felt certain that, despite the fact that she was unlikely to appear at her best at the moment, she could still easily seduce her handsome savior.

Colson, however, had other matters in mind. With little warning, the man shoved a stack of documents in Lindsay's right hand. Confused, the blonde stared down at the papers, wondering what her gorgeous knight in golden armor was about.

Smirking, Colson pulled out his cellphone and snapped a picture of her standing there, stack of documents in hand, and restrained by the police. Startled, Lindsay could only gap at Colson for a long moment. At which point, her savior's actions finally registering in her mind, Lindsay's features morphed into an angry sneer. But before she could so much as hiss a single word of rebuke, Colson saluted her and said, "You've been served! Have a nice day."

Lindsay watched, dumbfounded as her savior walked off, whistling. It wasn't until the officers began reading her Miranda rights that she startled out of their trance. Her mother, having been as shocked as Lindsay over Colson's behavior, suddenly regained her senses as the officers began forcing her daughter towards the second patrol vehicule. She rushed forward, attempting to intervene, but the effort proved as fruitless as it had when the officers had arrested her husband. They all just simply ignored her indignant objections. And when Mrs. Lister attempted to physically intervene, Officer Johnson gave her such a glare, that she didn't doubt the likelihood of being arrested as well if she continued in this vein.

Defeated, Mrs. Lister could only watch as her wailing baby girl was unceremoniously forced into the second patrol vehicule. Her husband, as helpless as she, could only scream and angrily kick about, restrained in the back of the first police vehicule.

Through all this the crowd watched, transfixed and buzzing at the sight.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 1:08 p.m.**

Lorelai Gilmore took in a deep breath as she made her way back into the house. She needed to calm down. Rory had realised that something was amiss when she had acted so oddly upon her arrival. And even if Rory hadn't, the fact that she felt that fetching one of her mother's many disastrous presents from the garage was more than enough to tip her smart daughter off.

No, Lorelai needed to calm down – and fast.

If she managed that, then maybe she would get lucky and Rory would just ignore how weird she was being.

That plan, however, swiftly went out the window when she saw her daughter sitting on the couch, frowning at her cellphone.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 1:09 p.m.**

Rory frowned as her mother fluttered about the house. So far, she had ordered Indian food despite the fact that she couldn't stand to smell of that particular kind of take-out. Then, she had mysterious walked into the kitchen with the cordless phone, stating she needed to make a phone call, and returned two minutes later without the phone or any evidence she had made a call to begin with. And since then, Lorelai Gilmore had been talking a mile a minute and seemingly throwing everything and anything in Rory's direction in order to make up for her nervous fidgeting.

Something was wrong.

What, however, remained a mystery until she received a text from Lane while her mom went to fetch something from the garage.

Simply, it read: _Have you heard the news about Lindsay?_

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 1:09 p.m.**

Before Lorelai could even comprehend what she was doing, she had reached out and swatted the cell out of Rory's hands.

"Mom," Rory shrieked as she watched the cell smash against the wall, "What is wrong with you?"

Lorelai flinched and stared at her daughter, at loss for words.

Eventually, Rory sighed, "What happened? What is it that you don't want me to know?" the young woman bit her lip, "Does it have anything to do with whatever news is running around town about Lindsay?"

Lorelai groaned and shook her head. She should have known that Rory wouldn't remain in the dark for any length of time – not unless she wanted to. She should have just come out and addressed the situation. Things might have gone more smoothly if she had. But she'd wanted to protect her daughter from any unnecessary pain – and like many a mother before her, had gone about it in the wrong way.

Admitting defeat, Lorelai placed the box she had retrieved from the garage upon the floor and flopped down upon the couch. She took a deep breath and looked at Rory for several long minutes, not quite sure as to how she should proceed.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 1:10 p.m.**

And in that moment, Rory knew.

Whatever it was that her mother had to tell her, Rory knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wouldn't like it.

"What's wrong?" She eventually managed to ask, her tone apprehensive. Still, whatever this was, Rory wanted it over quick – like ripping off a pink Band-Aid.

Her mother took a deep breath, looked her in the eye and said, "Lindsay's pregnant."

"What?" She asked, dumbfounded.

"Lindsay…" Lorelai began, searching for words, "announced it to Dean outside of Luke's Dinner earlier today. I was on my way to get a coffee and heard the news."

Rory looked at her mother, dazed. Though she had heard what Lorelai had said, the information just didn't seem to want to compute.

"Are you…" Lorelai began, "Okay?"

Silence.

"Rory?" Her mother prodded her hesitantly.

"Huh?" Rory started, "I mean, yes. Yes, I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?"

Lorelai frowned, "Are you sure?"

"Of course," the young woman much too widely for the sentiment to be true, "I mean, Dean's married to Lindsay. So, of course, as Dean's wife, Lindsay should be pregnant. If not her, than who?"

"Rory," Lorelai began, concerned.

Knowing where the conversation was heading, but unwilling to deal with it at the moment, Rory announced, "I need to take a shower now."

And before her mother could either react or object, Rory had high tailed it to the bathroom.

Once hidden behind the safety of the solid oak door, the young woman managed to get the shower started before she was forced to relieve the contents of stomach into the toilet bowl. The gruesome task occupied her for several long minutes before her nausea finally abated.

Rory was thankful her mother hadn't tried to barge into the room. This, despite the fact that Lorelai had undoubtedly heard her retching.

Once she had caught her breath and rinsed out her mouth. Rory stood and mechanically stripped out of her clothes. Stepping into the shower, Rory sighed as the warm water soothed her tense muscles. Turning to face the showerhead Rory tilted her head upwards and let the water droplets pelt her in the face until she found herself practically drowning in the stream. Eventually given into the need to breath, she titled her down until she could gasp in several mouthfuls of air. Her eyes staring resolutely at the drain, the warm water now pelted against her neck and shoulders.

Ignoring the burning sensation in her eyes and throat, Rory picked up a bar of soap and started to wash herself. Concentrating on the action, the young woman was able to distract herself from the reality she now face. The reality she didn't want to think about.

For once, Rory Gilmore simply wished for her mind to remain blank – free of all her worries – and all her woes.

The tactic worked for a moment or two. But then her hands ran the soap across her stomach – her slightly rounded stomach. And reality crashed down upon her, offering no mercy as it did so. The burning sensation in her eyes and throat intensified tenfold and despite herself, she lost control. Rory Gilmore began sobbing, crying, her knees buckling and her body sinking to the bottom of the tub as she dropped the soap.

The water pelting insistently against her back, Rory felt a flutter in her stomach.

It was ridiculous to think that it could be anything more than gas. Still, a part of Rory couldn't help but wonder if Dean's baby was asserting its presence as she curled up in the bathtub.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 1:17 p.m.**

Outside, Lorelai stood at the door quietly listening to the sound of her daughter sobbing. In this situation, Lorelai knew she could do nothing to help. However, she did have control over certain things, and she was damn well going to use it.

* * *

 **Posted December 8th 2017**


	25. That Sense of Impending Doom

**Author's Note:** Well, I imagine after all of the drama of the past few chapters, you guys are looking forward to something that's a little lighter. Unfortunately, that will not be this chapter. I warned you guys that, when I first wrote this story all the way back in 2009, I was a bit in a melodramatic mood. Despite deciding to review WS and repost it on my new account, I decided to stay true to the original tone of the story. Thus, you have the chapter before you.

As always, please review. I look forward to reading your thoughts. I hope you like the little glimpse I give you into Shannon Lister's mind. She, like her daughter, is a selfish, self-righteous little gnome. And like Lindsay, she is just as incapable of accepting her share of the fault, or even to accept anything which directly contradicts her views on what is and what isn't. I guess you could say that I'm giving you guys a glimpse into why Lindsay is the way she is and where she gets part of her stellar personality from.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 24: That Sense of Impending Doom**

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence)1:18 p.m.**

It took quite a bit of effort, but after fifteen minutes, Clara had successfully reached her objective. She had to lie to her mother in the process – but it was a lie well spent. Besides, one might argue that it wasn't technically a lie. She was tired after all. And she had needed her mother's help to safely make it up the stairs and to her bedroom. Clara just didn't intend to go to bed _quite_ yet. And so, after waiting a few minutes to insure the coast was clear, Clara yanked at her comforter with the intent of sneaking out of the bed and down the hall to her brother's room.

Clara frowned and glared at the purple comforter.

For the first time since she was ten, her mother had felt the need to tuck her in – which in and of itself, wouldn't be a problem. Except that, well, the tucking seemed to be a lot more thorough than she remembered it being in the past.

Taking a deep breath, Clara yanked with her right hand once more…

 _Seriously?_

Was she truly to be done in by a well tucked blanket? _What in the nine circles of hell had her mother done to her bedsheets? Had she superglued them or something?_

In a desperate attempt to untangle herself, Clara squirmed in her bed and yanked angrily at the comforter.

Thankfully, after a moment or two, the comforter did come loose – although she almost rolled off the bed in the process…

And so, as stealthily as Clara could, she crawled out of bed and crept to her bedroom door. Her heart thudded against her ribcage as she slowly opened the door, extremely conscious of the slight squeak her door emitted in the process. After ascertaining that her mission remained undiscovered, the teenager sneaked across the hall. Although, it was fairer to say that she hobbled across the hall as quietly as could. Still, credit must be given where credit was due, and despite the inflated state of her right ankle, Clara did manage to cross the hall unnoticed.

Once reaching her brother's room, Clara wasted little time in locating the Rory box.

Dean wasn't what one would call creative with his hiding places. And so, within the space of a minute, Clara had the letter within her hand. She was just about to open it up when a sound attracted her notice.

Her mother was moving about the living room.

Reminded of her precarious position, Clara decided it would be safer to get out of her brother's room as quickly as she could. It would be best not to risk being discovered out of bed by her mother. With this in mind, the teenager tucked the letter in the pocket of her hoodie and closed the Rory box. Tucking it back underneath Dean's bed, she took one final glance about the room.

Her eyes darting nervously about the room, Clara ensured that everything was as it should be before quietly hobbling back to her bedroom. Once inside, she unzipped and removed her hoodie and crawled back into bed. Warily, she eyed her bedroom door for several moments before deciding that she escaped her mother's notice.

Pulling out the letter from where she had hidden it beneath her pillow, Clara smirked as she unfolded it.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Hartford (Highway 40)1:19 p.m.**

Sniffling loudly, Lindsay glared determinedly at the back of Officer Johnson's head. The humiliation – the utter shame she felt at this moment was matched only by the seething rage that rose within her breast.

That the Foresters could have had the gall, the sheer audacity to do such a thing to her family…

That the fiends could be so far removed from decency as to believe that they could get away with such an effrontery sickened Lindsay beyond measure.

It was quite clear to her now that the Foresters had no compunction – no sense of what was just and right. They would achieve their base ends through whatever means necessary, heedless of whom they harmed in the process…

Lindsay chocked back a wailing sob.

 _It would do her no good_ , she thought, _for these heartless officers were as loss to common decency as Sheriff Jeffries had been_. And Lindsay had no intention of suffering any further indignities at their hands. She would not allow the brutes to see her so utterly downtrodden…

 _She would not!_

 _Not when she was innocent of any wrongdoing._

 _No_ , Lindsay thought, taking a deep breath, _all would soon be set to right. The sheer ludicrousness of the Forester's suit would be revealed and the brutes would have little choice but to set her daddy and herself free. Everything in her garden would soon be rosie again – though the Foresters would surely learn to rue the day they had decided to harm her family in such an infamous manner – her daddy would see to that sure enough._

Taking another loud sniff, Lindsay wished she had a few Kleenexes to wipe her face with. Although she could hardly discern her features in the reflection of the window, the blonde could clearly see that her red face was covered in snot and tears. Lindsay couldn't stand the thought of looking such a mess in front of dozens of strangers. The very idea was utterly mortifying.

And so, her vanity being prickled, Lindsay gave no more thought to her predicament. Not even the divorce papers or the restraining order she had been served with gave her pause to worry.

Why would she be worried about such inconsequential matters? Especially, when it was obvious that the documents had been issued before she had announced her pregnancy to her husband?

No, Lindsay had no doubt that Dean would retract the papers as soon as he possibly could. Although it infuriated Lindsay to no end that her husband had not only had the thought of divorcing her, but that he had the gall to issue a restraining order as well. Still, Lindsay breathed deeply, attempting to calm herself, these matters could be properly attended to at a later date.

There would be ample time to think up ways of making her husband suffer later. At the moment, the blonde felt she had more pressing matters to attend to – the most important of which was to see the Foresters pay for every indignity she had suffered.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence)1:21 p.m.**

Clara frowned as she stared at the letter. Had she read it wrong? Was her imagination getting the better of her once again – or did she truly see what she was seeing right now. Wide eyed and in utter disbelief Clara simply stared at the letter for a long moment before regaining her wits. Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, she decided that she would read it through a second time – just to make sure she wasn't imagining things.

And so, eagerly, she read the following letter once more:

* * *

 _Dear Dean,_

 _I hope you will forgive me for the abruptness of this letter. I spent a long time contemplating how and what I should write. For some reason I managed to convince myself earlier on that if I could just find the right way to go about it, somehow all of this would be less painful. Stupid, I know, but there you have it. Although this fact might have been obvious to anyone else, it took me weeks to realise that there was no right way to go about any of this, nor was there any conceivable way to make this process anything less than excruciatingly painful._

 _With that in mind I need you to know that the night we shared together was special. You were my first and only – my first kiss, my first love, my first everything. And I know sometimes it might not have seemed like it, but I never did stop loving you. I think that is part of the reason why I couldn't bring myself to see that we had done something wrong in being together that night. But I can't pretend otherwise anymore Dean._

 _You're married to someone else._

 _You were married to someone else when we slept together, and I imagine, that despite what you told me that night, you are still married to someone else. As such, I have decided that the best thing for me to do now is to remove myself from the equation._

 _Love you always,_

 _Rory Gilmore_

* * *

Nope – she clearly read the letter right the first time.

Dean had slept with Rory.

Rory had slept with Dean.

The woman Dean had cheated on Lindsay with was Rory.

 _Clara's brain was fried._

For a minute, the teenager simply stared at the letter, frowning in confused disbelief. And then, blessed realisation struck.

Rory still loved Dean.

They had slept together.

 _There was still a chance!_

Ecstatic, Clara giggled and clapped her hands, delighted. Of course, she would be horrified to know that, in that moment, she resembled very much the happy little toddler she had been once upon a time. Thankfully, for Clara's peace of mind, Mrs. Forester was not present to comment on her actions.

Still, in that moment, all Clara could do was grin, giggle and laugh.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence)1:24 p.m.**

Jane Forester frowned as she heard her daughter laughing in her room upstairs. Hadn't Clara said she was tired – that she wanted a nap? Why in the world would she be laughing?

Worried, Jane began climbing up the stairs, "Clara? Are you okay up there?"

Abruptly, the laughing stopped, and Jane found herself missing the sound.

"Yeah, mom," Clara giggled, "I'm fine."

Reaching the landing, Jane turned left and entered her daughter's bedroom. There, she found Clara sitting up in bed with a large novel in hand. Jane's brow puckered in confusion, "I thought you wanted to take a nap."

For a long moment, all was silent, "I did," Clara eventually answered, "But I was having trouble falling asleep and I decided to try and get ahead on my reading assignment for English Lit."

"Oh," Jane nodded her head, feeling like she was missing something, "So, the novel you are reading, it's funny?"

"Today it is," Clara laughed, "But I'm guessing it wasn't considered as such in the eighteenth century."

"Ah," Jane bit her lip in confusion.

Seeing her mother's confusion, Clara was about to clarify when the sound of someone knocking angrily upon their front door reached their ears.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Oak Street)1:25 p.m.**

Shannon Lister had always prided herself on being nothing less than impeccable while in the eye of the public. Everything she did was efficient and graceful – and the woman took great pleasure in the knowledge that her poise and decorum far surpassed that of any other woman in the village. Though, it was hardly a wonder, Shannon believed – not in such a small, _quaint_ little town – and not with her breeding. Unlike the country savages with whom she was presently surrounded, Shannon Lister had been raised as a prominent lady of sophisticated society.

And everyone knew that a lady, no matter her reduced circumstances, always comported herself perfectly.

Now, Shannon was not the kind of woman to engage in arguments in full view of the public. Not only did she find such displays to be mawkish and vulgar, but they were considered to be quite improper in the eyes of polite society.

The small town of Stars Hollow, however, had no claims whatsoever on polite society – and given the present circumstances, Shannon Lister believed her actions wholly justifiable.

" _Jane Margaret Forester,"_ Shannon shrieked as she vigorously struck the door with her delicate hands.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence)1:26 p.m.**

Having been drawn out of Clara's room by the sound of violent knocking, the Forester girls stood upon the landing of the staircase, watching the front door apprehensively.

" _You come out here right this instant and explain yourself, you hateful shrew!"_ Mrs. Lister screeched behind the oak door, pounding oafishly upon the panel. Clara jerked back as she saw the door pulse under the pressure.

"Damn it!" Jane Forester hissed, attracting a startled glare from her daughter.

Taking a step down the staircase, Jane's descent was halted by a hand grasping desperately at her arm, almost clawing into it in the process. Looking up at her daughter, Jane saw Clara trembling, her head vigorously shaking back and forth. _Police_ , the teenager mouthed insistently.

Her mother, however, felt a deep seated need to confront Mrs. Lister, and so dismissed her daughter's pleas accordingly. Later, Jane Forester would deeply regret her impetuous decision and dearly wish she had heeded her daughter's appeal. But at present, she gave little thought to the fears of a fourteen year old girl, confident that her judgement was sound.

And so, in believing that, by virtue of her age, she was wiser than her daughter, Jane Forester fell into the same trap that many before her had. For although wisdom could indeed be gained with age, Jane failed to acknowledge the reality that being older did not necessarily make her wiser…

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence)1:26 p.m.**

Clara watched, in awful dread as her mother opened the door to confront the screaming banshee on the other side of it.

"What do you want, Lister?" her mother boldly hissed, advancing upon Mrs. Lister, forcing the woman to step back and off the porch.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Oak Street)1:26 p.m.**

Shannon Lister spluttered at Mrs. Forester's churlish tone.

 _The audacity of the woman,_ Shannon thought, _why, one might think the shrew believed herself to be the injured party!_

"Well?" Jane prodded, sneering.

"You – You – You," she stuttered, gasping in affront, "You despicable wretch!"

Mrs. Forester scowled, but Shannon refused to allow the conniving bitch the time to attempt to defend herself. She was in no mood to suffer such a disgusting display, for no excuse could ever justify the actions that the Foresters had taken against her beloved daughter and husband.

"Have you no decency?" Shannon asked, "No sense of remorse? To speak to me in such a brazen, aggressive fashion? After all that you have done to my family?"

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Oak Street)1:27 p.m.**

Jane Forester stared down at Mrs. Lister in incredulous shock, " _All that we've done to your family?"_ she repeated, flabbergast.

"Yes!" Shannon answered vehemently, "All that you have done! Not only has your family _stolen_ from _my daughter_ , but _your little bitch_ actually attacked Lindsay! And when Reginald attempted to intervene, _your husband_ attacked him! Do you know that they spent the night in jail for your abuse? In jail!" Shannon wailed indignantly, "And now, now you have _them_ arrested on _false charges?"_

"False charges," Jane echoed, having trouble grasping the depths of Mrs. Lister's depravity. Her shock, however, soon gave way to fury, and she incredulously shrieked, " _My daughter attacked yours?"_

"Yes," Shannon sneered, "and now you have had my Lindsay arrested for it!"

Breathing heavily, her face red with rage, Jane felt the strongest urge to strike the woman. Mrs. Lister, having some sense, seemed to realise this and took several step backs accordingly. Despite this, the blonde refused to simply back down from the confrontation. And so, for several long moments, the women simply glared at each other, both seething with unadulterated hatred.

It was whilst Jane attempted to regain her temper, that she noticed the crowd that had gathered upon her front lawn. Similarly, Mrs. Lister seemed to take note of them for the first time. At the sight of them, the loathsome blonde straightened her spine and smirked triumphantly at Jane.

It was clear the hag felt that their presence was a boon in her favor.

Jane bit her lip and attempted to ignore the way in which her entire being trembled with rage. Instead, she focused her frustration into her closed fists, digging her nails painfully into the palms of her hands, " _My daughter,"_ Jane began, hissing, " _didn't so much as touch Lindsay._ Clara did nothing wrong. _It was your family,"_ she insisted, _"your_ psychopathic husband – and your _whore of a daughter_ that _attacked Clara_."

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Oak Street)1:29 p.m.**

Shannon gasped, clutching at her breast, scandalised, "How dare you," she hissed, "How dare you spread such lies about my family! And to insult my daughter in such an infamous fashion as well! Are you so utterly devoid of feeling? Of propriety? You must be, to knowingly throw about such brazen and baseless slurs! Oh," Shannon howled, "that _my perfect little girl_ had never married your _brute_ of a son!"

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Oak Street)1:29 p.m.**

Clara stared at the scene unfolding before her, wide-eyed and horrified. The teenager, unlike her mother, truly understood that the Listers did not take well to any form of confrontation – especially those that contradicted their understanding of the situation at hand, and called into question their own perceived superiority. As such, Clara knew all too well that if the argument was not soon brought to an end, the situation would devolve rather quickly. And, it was quite clear to her, that her mother had reached the end of her patience, and was quite ready to throw both caution and restraint to the wind.

And so, having crept down the stairs and onto the front porch, Clara attempted to intervene, "Mama?" she pleaded.

But once again, Jane Forester ignored her daughter in favor of her impetuousness. Staring down angrily at Mrs. Lister, her mother hissed, " _My brute of a son,_ found _your perfect little girl_ , on her knees in their bed with her lover ramming into her from behind!"

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Oak Street)1:29 p.m.**

With an inhuman screech, Mrs. Lister launched herself upon the shameless bitch that had the gall to so abuse her poor, sweet daughter. Her concerned neighbours pulled her back before she could do much more than slap Jane in the face and shove her. But Shannon got the satisfaction of seeing the hussy stumble backwards. Her little whore of a daughter had rushed forward, attempting to brace her mother. But Shannon had shoved Jane back too strongly. The blonde watched, gleefuly, as Mrs. Forester and her brat fell to the ground, with Mrs. Forester landing firmly upon her daughter.

"I won't stand for this anymore," Shannon declared, victoriously.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Oak Street) 1:30 p.m.**

Horrified, Jane scrambled to the ground as quickly as she could. Turning towards her sobbing daughter, she saw that Clara clutched at left shoulder and arm, holding her injured wrist protectively against herself.

"Oh God," she exclaimed, frantic and tearful, "Oh God, please, someone call an ambulance!"

Her world narrowed to her sobbing daughter lying upon the damp ground. Her focus solely engaged in her attempts to soothe her injured daughter, Jane barely noticed when Mrs. Lister began spewing her hateful spiel once more. And even when she became aware of it, Jane did not comprehend a single word of the woman's diatribe – her voice and the voice of all others save Clara's, washed over her like waves upon an ocean.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Oak Street)1:30 p.m.**

" _The people of Stars Hollow will not stand for this anymore!"_ Shannon Lister continued her diatribe, speaking loudly over Clara's cries. If she hadn't been so infuriated, so utterly disgusted with Jane Forester's horrid lies, she might have actually smiled at the sight. But as it was, she settled for grim satisfaction. As her neighbours held her back and stood protectively before her, Shannon felt more confident than ever in the support of her fellow townspeople.

So confident and so superior was she that Shannon failed to note that the very neighbours who were 'protecting' her were scowling at her. Nor did she realise that the general disgust she sensed from them were directed at her person rather than at her rivals. And so, she added insult to injury, " _You_ will call your lawyer _immediately_!" she demanded of Mrs. Forester, " _You_ will see to it that the charges against my daughter and husband are _dropped_. And _your husband_ and _daughter_ will sign a statement, confirming my family's version of the events. You will do all of this, and you will do it promptly! What's more, you –"

At this point, blessedly, Shannon Lister was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Forester.

"What is it?" he yelled frantically, making his way through the crowd, "What's happened?"

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Oak Street)1:31 p.m.**

Forty-two minutes.

He had been gone for forty-two minutes – only long enough to stop by the post office and fed-ex a package. He would have been home sooner, but he had decided to surprise his girls with the double fudge brownie ice cream they loved so much from Kitty's Ice Cream Parlour down on Lilac Drive. He'd even splurged and bought the hazelnut truffles that Clara loved so much.

He'd been looking forward to seeing the look on his girls' faces when he walked through the door with their unexpected treat.

Except, when he had driven up his street, he had found a crowd gathered in front of his house.

A dark dread filled him as he rushed out of his car, barely remembering to turn off the engine beforehand.

As he rushed to the house, the crowd parted for him. And at the base of his front porch, he had found his daughter sobbing upon the ground, and his crying wife frantically attempting to soothe her. Falling to his knees beside his family, Matthew attempted to catch Jane's attention, asking her to tell him what had happened. The exercise, however, proved fruitless, as his wife seemed utterly oblivious to him. Casting his gaze about the crowd, he searched for an explanation.

The man hissed as his eyes landed upon Mrs. Lister's face, " _What did you do?"_ he asked angrily, his voice low and dangerous.

Shannon Lister gasped, seemingly affronted, " _Nothing_ ," the woman hissed.

" _Nothing?"_ Matthew Forester echoed derisively, unable to believe the gall of the woman.

"Nothing that was not justly deserved," the blonde amended, "as my neighbours will attest."

Sharing a dumbfounded look with Elsa McQueen, one of the very neighbours detaining Shannon, he stared at Mrs. Lister in utter disbelief, "You're delusional."

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow (Oak Street)1:31 p.m.**

Enraged, Shannon attempted to move forward in order to strike the impertinent fool in the face. Her neighbours, however, concerned for her wellbeing, held her back. Realising the futility of struggling against them, Shannon settled for sneering at the man – though she, for a short moment, dearly wished she was not so beloved within the community.

Laughing derisively, Shannon shook her head in mock disappointment, "I'm delusional?" the blonde simpered, "look around you _Forester._ Look at your neighbours – look at how they _sneer_ at _you. You must see how disgusted they are with you._ Can't you see that they know that you, your wife and daughter are nothing more than a bunch of conniving liars ? That the lies you have been spreading through town about my family are only a means of justifying your deplorable actions? Can't you see, that whatever it was that you hoped to achieve with this scheme of yours – this filing of false charges – has already been undone? For, can't you see, that against such vile and base slander, our neighbours will stand by my family?"

Shannon Lister nodded her head, satisfied she had brought her point home. And so, she made to turn away from the scene – to walk away with her head held high, emphasizing the dignity she bore, and the dignity that the Foresters so sorely lacked. Her actions, however, were halted by her neighbours. It was in that moment that Shannon Lister realised that the protective hold her neighbours' had upon her person was, in fact, quite painful. Yet it wasn't until she began to struggle against them, and angrily demanded, "What are you doing? Let me go!" that Mrs. Lister began to suspect that something was horribly amiss.

* * *

 **Posted December 10th 2017**


	26. The Question of Paternity

**Author's Note:** Well, after all of the steady updates I have been posting lately, I'm sure you guys have been wondering where I have been this week. Unfortunately, I have been busy for the past few days, and I haven't had the chance to load any updates onto the site. But I'm back now, and I hope you guys will enjoy what is coming next.

As always, please review.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 25: The Question of Paternity**

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Hartford (** **Winters & Schuster Law Firm** **) 5:13 p.m.**

The day had been a long one. The better part of the afternoon had been spent locked inside a board room with a bunch of old-fudgy-duddies who were so stuck in the past; they couldn't believe that a _female_ lawyer could be good at her job. As far as those old duddies were concerned, Margaret had only ever gotten as far as she had because her great-grandfather had founded the firm, and her father was currently head of it. And so, she had spent the last three hours biting her lip, attempting not to snark at _the oh so intelligent old men_ who dismissed _nearly all_ of _her contributions_ out of hand. Naturally, this was made all the more irksome by the fact that, an hour after she had initially suggested a solution, one of her _esteemed male colleagues_ would put it forth and the others would agree, giving the man full credit for _her_ idea.

One might wonder at her colleagues' logic, and why they themselves did not question the soundness of treating her in such a manner. For, if logic were to prevail, one must naturally assume that Margaret, being Andrew Winters' only child, would take up his mantle sooner or later. Logic, however, was rarely applied in cases strife with prejudice. And so, Margaret had little doubt that many of the old-fudgy-duddies had somehow found a way into deluding themselves that she would be denied her inheritance in favor of one of their _male_ colleagues.

Despite all of this, Margaret had still managed to maintain a positive outlook on the day. And so, as the meeting drew to a close, Margaret had decided to leave work early that day – to go home and enjoy and nice long bath, with a good book and a big glass of merlot. That, of course, was when her secretary had interrupted the meeting and asked Margaret to step out.

"What is it Daisy?" Margaret asked her secretary.

"Mr. Matthew Forester is on the line," Daisy stated grimly, "he said he needed to speak with you right away. That it couldn't wait. He said things have escalated again."

Margaret startled, "What? Escalated? Escalated how?"

Daisy shook her head, "I don't know Miss. Winters. He wouldn't say, only insisted on talking to you immediately."

"Gentleman," Margaret addressed the duddies distractedly, "please, excuse me."

Mr. Harrold grunted, "You're excused," he waved her off dismissively, as if she were his secretary as opposed to his superior.

Margaret, however, was much more concerned with her client at the moment, and so she paid the old fool little notice.

* * *

 **Thursday October 21** **st** **2004, Hartford (** **Police Station 4** **) 7:26 p.m.**

Sitting in his jail cell, Reginald Lister seethed at the injustice of his present situation. Not only had both he and his precious little girl been arrested on ludicrous charges, but the authorities refused to simply dismiss the charges – this, despite repeated arguments from himself, his wife, his daughter _and_ his lawyer. It was more than enough to wonder what the world was coming to, when all sense of decency appeared to be lost to his fellow man.

But, despite all of these indignities, the most galling one was yet to be had. For, the authorities would not see fit to release him or his daughter until a bail hearing had been had.

 _A bail hearing!_

As if he and his daughter were nothing more than common criminals!

Reginald Lister trembled with rage at the thought. That he would have to pay bail so that the authorities could release them, to their own recognisance, until they faced in court the Foresters' false accusation…

The very idea disgusted Reginald – that these villains could believe that they would get away with such infamous behavior. _Oh, when he got his hands on those Foresters…_

 _They would rue the day!_

Feeling a sharp tinge of pain in his chest, Reginald decided it would be best to calm himself. Rubbing his aching chest distractedly, he reminded himself that things would not progress so far. Surely, his lawyer would find a way to see these ridiculous charges dismissed. The officers would not be swayed, that much was clear by now. But surely a judge with good acumen would see their situation for what it was – a crude and petty revenge from a shrewd family of wretches.

No.

Reginald Lister had no doubt.

The charges would soon be dismissed. He and his daughter would soon be released. And neither would see a bail hearing any time in their natural life.

* * *

 **Friday October 22** **nd** **2004, Hartford (East Hartford** **Hospital** **) 8:02 a.m.**

For the second time in under a week, Dean Forester sat in one of the stiff, plastic, orange chairs found in the pediatrics' ward of the hospital. And once again, his fourteen year old sister slept, knocked out on painkillers, in a hospital bed. Seated beside him, his father anxiously fiddled with his watch as they waited for their lawyer to arrive. His mother, Jane, had fallen asleep in her chair after having spent the better part of the night, awake, soothing Clara and crying. To say that she would be angry to learn that they had allowed her to doze off would be an understatement. But she needed the sleep, and this was the only way they could think of to force her to get it.

As the clock struck five past eight, Dean felt himself sinking further and further under the weight of his shame. All of this was his fault – and he knew it all too well. He should have dealt with the Lindsay situation sooner. But he hadn't and there they were – again. Clara's shoulder had needed to be splint once more, but thankfully nothing else had seemed to be affected. Still, the hospital had insisted that she remain there for a week. They said it was because they wanted to make sure no complications arose, but Dean had to wonder if they were insisting on keeping Clara because they were worried she would get hurt again if they released her.

Dean, however, was distracted from his suspicions by the sound of someone knocking on the door of Clara's hospital room. The sound, although unusually soft, still managed to startle Dean. His father, just as surprised, tensed.

"Mr. Forester?" Miss. Winters softly called out.

Recognising the voice of their lawyer, the Forester men visibly relaxed. Turning towards Miss. Winters, they found the woman standing outside the door, looking towards them hesitantly.

Regaining his composure, Matthew Forester quickly stood to greet their guest, "Hello Miss. Winters," he said, whispering.

Dean watched as his father shuffled for a moment, the man's right hand reaching out to rub the back of his neck. Through his father's awkward fidgeting, it was quite clear that the man was at a loss at the situation they now all found themselves.

Dean certainly didn't blame him – for he, himself, was at a loss. Despite what Lindsay claimed, he could not, would not remain married to her. The marriage was not good for him – she was not good for him. And if this week had proven anything, it was that Lindsay and her parents were not good for his family. Though Lindsay claimed to be pregnant, he had not for one second floundered in his decision to divorce her. If she had been indeed pregnant with his child, it would certainly have complicated matters, but he would not have remained married to that woman – not after all that she had done. If the child she carried had been his, he would have sought full custody and insure that the Listers be denied visitation rights. As it was, however, things would never have to come to that.

No, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would divorce Lindsay. Just as he knew that he would remove her from his life insomuch as it would be possible. What he didn't know, however, was how he would accomplish this without any further harm befalling his loved ones.

"I must apologise for making you come all this way," his father continued, sighing, "I know it is not your habit to make house calls, but I am very grateful you were willing to make an exception this time."

"Of course," the blonde answered shakily, her gaze trained upon Clara's sleeping form.

"Please," Matthew gestured to the empty seat across them, "have a seat."

As Miss. Winters made her way across the room, Dean could tell she was trying her best to remain as professional as possible. Still, despite her best efforts, the woman seemed unable to keep her gaze from straying back towards his injured sister. At the sight, her nostrils would flare slightly and a frown would begin to form before she regained control of herself and presented a calmer front.

That Miss. Winters found the state his sister was in upsetting was clear for all to see.

As their lawyer took her seat, his father turned and gently nudged his mother awake. Groaning, Jane Forester hugged the pillow she held tighter and curled into herself. This reaction succeeded in pulling a small smile from his father's lips, but the man remained undeterred. Nudging her once more, Matthew succeeded in gaining his wife's attention. His mother's face scrunched up and she swatted at her husband's hand, making him desist for a moment.

"Jane," his father whispered, "Jane, you need to wake up now."

"Mm?" his mother answered, blearily. Her body shifted and her eyes opened slowly, the lids fluttering for several moments.

Dean knew when reality had regained its foothold upon his mother's mind, for she tensed so suddenly, she looked as if she were made of stone for a moment. Reaching out towards his father, Jane all but shoved the man to the side as she looked around him to gaze worriedly at her daughter. Noting no change in Clara's condition, his mother visibly deflated in relief.

Slowly, Matthew turned to take his seat once more, his hand reaching out for Jane's as he did so. In response, Dean's mother turned her from Clara, taking in Miss. Winters' presence for the first time. She threw the Forester men a scathing glare – and Dean knew they would be in for it later.

"Hello Miss. Winters," Jane greeted the woman.

"Hello Mrs. Forester," Miss. Winters smiled tightly, "it is good to see you again. Although I certainly wish it was under better circumstances."

"Likewise," Dean's mother responded, her smile appearing noticeably broken.

Nodding her head in understanding, Miss. Winters' gaze strayed towards Clara once more. Sighing, the woman shook her head in order to clear her thoughts. Opening up her briefcase, she pulled out a pen and a pad of paper. Turning determinedly towards his parents, Dean's lawyer took a deep breath, "So, Mr. Forester," Miss. Winters began, clearing her throat, "when you called last night, you informed me that things had escalated – that your wife had a confrontation with Mrs. Lister and that Clara's injuries were aggravated as a result. Could you please elaborate on that?"

"Well," Matthew began, looking at his wife cautiously.

* * *

 **Friday October 22** **nd** **2004, Hartford (East Hartford** **Hospital** **) 8:09 a.m.**

Jane's eyes stung as she answered, "Yes, yes I did."

Biting her lip, she tried to keep herself from crying once more, "We had just returned from having Lunch at Luke's not even a half-hour before Shannon Lister appeared. Clara had been tired, so I had helped her up the stairs and into bed. I was in her room with her when Mrs. Lister began banging against my front door, demanding that I explain myself. Clara," her voice wavered, breaking at this point.

Sniffling, Jane tried to ignore the tears gathering in her eyes. Her husband tightened his hold upon her hand and Jane couldn't help but to lean towards him, to gain comfort from his presence. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself the resume, "Clara wanted me to call the police. But I was angry," Jane said, her voice thick with emotion, "I wanted to look Shannon in the eye and tell her exactly what I thought of her daughter and husband. I shouldn't have," she cried, "I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself."

Jane let out a sob as Matthew handed her the tissue box, now nearly empty from all the tears she had shed over the night. Wiping her tears away, Jane continued, "You should have seen her – _heard her_ ," Jane hissed, "As far as Shannon Lister was concerned, we were the ones in the wrong."

Jane shook her head, sniffling, "According to Shannon, Mr. Lister and Lindsay did not attack Clara _. Clara_ attacked _Lindsay_ and then _Mr. Lister intervened,_ " she laughed derisively, "And she kept insisting that we drop our _false charges_ …"

Wiping angrily at several stray tears, she shook her head, trying to clear it, "I just got so mad!" Jane pleaded, "That she could lie like that, when my daughter was bruised from head to toe," she sobbed, "So I told her. I told her what I thought of her lies. And, in my anger, I even told her that Dean had caught Lindsay cheating on him. _And that was when she threw herself at me!"_

"I feel like such an idiot," Jane fiddled with her Kleenex, "Clara," she began, "Clara must have realised what would happen and when I fell backwards, she just," Jane sobbed, "She tried to catch me. But I just wound up falling on top of her. And now…" she broke off, heartbroken.

* * *

 **Friday October 22** **nd** **2004, Hartford (East Hartford** **Hospital** **) 8:13 a.m.**

"I see," Miss. Winters nodded, her voice strained.

"What can be done about this?" Matthew asked, "Can charges be filed?"

The lawyer sighed, "Charges can be filed, but I'm afraid that, in the case of Mrs. Lister, not much can be done."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"Well," Miss. Winters began, sighing, "although Mrs. Lister did attack your mother – she never actually touched Clara. So, although she was a contributing factor in aggravating your sister's injuries, she cannot be held accountable for them. We _can_ charge her with assault against your mother. But given that she has no injuries, save a few scratches, Mrs. Lister will unlikely get more than a slap on the wrist. I'm afraid that all we can do is to have a restraining order issued against her."

"But I thought we already filed for restraining orders?" Mr. Forster asked, frustrated.

"Against Mr. Lister and Lindsay?" the lawyer clarified, "yes, you did. And they were granted because Mr. Lister and Lindsay had given the judge cause to worry that you might physically be in danger. But as Mrs. Lister had never had a physical altercation with any of you prior to yesterday afternoon, I could not file a restraining order against her."

The Forester stared at each other, angry and disappointed with the outcome of the meeting.

"So," Matthew sighed heavily, "all we can do is file a restraining order and hope the Listers follow it?"

"I'm afraid so," Miss. Winters said regretfully, "but the orders against Mr. Lister and Lindsay were served yesterday afternoon. So, if at any time either one come within fifty feet or less of you, you need to file a complaint with the police immediately."

"The orders were served yesterday?" Dean asked, "When?"

Frowning, Miss. Winters answered, "Just prior to their arrest by the Hartford PD. Why?"

Dean sighed dejectedly. He had known it would be a long shot – but he had still hoped it could work.

"Dean? What is it son?" his father asked, confused.

Dean crossed his arms and bit his lip. He hadn't told them that he'd had a confrontation with Lindsay yesterday. Clara had been hurt again and they'd had more important things to worry about. And he hadn't exactly been eager to announce Lindsay's news, even if he felt fairly confident about the situation.

Looking down at his lap, Dean answered, "After you guys left Luke's yesterday, Lindsay found me. She shoved me and started yelling at me."

" _Dean,"_ his mother hissed, her reprimand clear in her tone.

"I know, okay," Dean whined, "but with Clara back in the hospital, it just didn't seem all that important at that moment."

" _Not that important?"_ his father scowled, "Son, you should have told us."

Groaning, he conceded, "I'm sorry."

"Yes, well," Miss. Winters, "As important as all of this is, I think we should focus our attention upon the most pressing matter. What exactly happened yesterday?"

Dean sighed, "Mostly she just blamed me for everything – said that I didn't care about her, that I was a jerk and all that. She made me out to be the bad guy, as always, skewering the truth to fit her own ends. Lindsay, like Mrs. Lister, even said that Clara had attacked her and that Mr. Lister had only _intervened_ for fear of her safety…" Dean trailed off, biting his lip.

Knowing that her son was holding something back, Jane prodded, "And?"

"And," Dean began, rubbing his eyes tiredly, "she said she was pregnant."

At the news, his parents reared back. Miss. Winters, however, seemed caught between incredulity and anger at the situation. Dean figured it was because she was worried that a custody battle might complicate her job more than just a little bit.

The full weight of the situation dawning on him, Matthew Forester swore profusely. Jane Forester, however, simply sat in her chair, staring blankly ahead of her, her face ashen. Clara, thankfully, remained entirely oblivious to the situation, caught within Morpheus' web as she was.

"Would you just all calm down for a second," Dean hissed at his parents, reaching his wits end.

"Calm down?" his father spat, incredulous, "son, do you realise what this means?"

"Yes, Dad," Dean answered derisively, "I know what it means. It means that Lindsay got herself knocked up by that guy she's been having sex with."

"Dean?" his mother asked, pleading.

But before he could answer, Miss. Winters cut in, "Hold on," she said frowning, "your wife actually admitted to being pregnant with another man's child?"

"No," Dean snorted derisively.

"Then," the lawyer began, her frown deepening.

"She didn't have to tell me it wasn't mine," Dean cut Miss. Winters off, "I guess that, in all the commotion, Lindsay lost track of things," he stated derisively.

"What do you mean Dean?" his mother asked, her tone anxious for a sliver of hope to grasp at.

"I mean that, for months now, things have been really bad with Lindsay and I. She'd pick a fight every other day, banishing me from the apartment one night and ignoring me the next," Dean sighed.

"And?" his father prodded, unimpressed.

"And," Dean began, his face turning red. He had really hoped he wouldn't have to spell it out to them, "As a result, our sex life suffered quite a bit. So much so, in fact, that I can tell you exactly when I last had sex with Lindsay."

His parents just stared at him, expressions mixed with disgust, frustration and confusion and Dean knew he would have to bring things to a point, "We haven't had sex since Lindsay found out I was still talking to Rory."

Their frowns held fast for one long moment, before comprehension began to dawn. The two shared a look with one and other, wanting to verify that they had reached the same conclusion.

"I'm sorry," Miss. Winters interjected, confused, "and this affects the situation how?"

Dean smiled for the first time of the day, "Lindsay found out that I was still talking to Rory in the middle of April. If the baby were mine, she would be over six months pregnant. Even if she was one of those girls that don't expand much during pregnancy, I think it's safe to say that her condition would still be fairly obvious by now. And even if, by some miracle, she happened to be over six months pregnant now, I'm pretty sure she would have told me a few months back. It would have, in Lindsay's mind, given her the leverage she needed to force me to buy the townhouse she wanted. In fact, I'm guessing that's why she told me she was pregnant. She's probably expecting me to come back crawling on my knees, begging her forgiveness."

Jane laughed, sobbing at the same time. Unable to find the words to express how relieved and happy she was at the news, the woman simply launched herself at her son. Startled, Dean suddenly found himself being smothered by an unruly mane of red hair. Matthew Forester, in contrast, simply chuckled and grabbed a hold of his wife's waist, less the woman he loved accidentally slid off his lap and landed upon the floor.

"Well," Miss. Winters smiled, "that is good news. You will, however, most likely have to undergo a paternity test. Especially if your wife insists that the child is yours."

"I can live with that," Dean laughed.

The lawyer nodded her head, glad that her client would co-operate. The levity of the moment, however, quickly passed her under the reality of the situation her client faced. Margaret Winters was loathed to intrude upon this happy moment, especially since the Forester family seemed to have had so few good breaks as of late, but she felt it her duty the ensure that her client understood the difficulties he still faced, "You should know, however, that whether or not you test negative for the test, you will still be put under scrutiny. Part of it will be due to the fact that judges tend to like to see people squirm. But the better part will be because, despite the fact that your wife is most likely carrying another man's child, she is still your wife. And as result, there could still be consequences. Although alimony may be waved in cases in which the lesser-earning spouse is considered to be at fault for the end of the marriage, the judge may still issue it. For example, if the judge learns of your own infidelity, he may feel that Lindsay is entitled to her fair share, especially if it is proven that you strayed first. It will all depend on the judge – and the lawyer the Listers will hire. It will be his or her job to discredit you, to make Lindsay out to be the victim of an unequal or abusive marriage."

* * *

 **Posted December 15th 2017**


	27. Family Affairs

**Author's Note:** Please note, that for the purpose of this story, somewhere a couple of hours away from Hartford and Stars Hollow, there exists a town named Brookshire (which I have made up) in which we shall find the estate of a character who, though was spoken of in Gilmore Girls, was never seen on screen.

On another note, I would really appreciate some feedback to this chapter. Once more, I have deviated quite a bit from the original WS and am eager to read your thoughts.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 26: Family Affairs**

* * *

 **Monday October 25** **th** **2004,** **2004, Hartford (Gilmore Mansion) 12:17 p.m.**

They had been having a quiet lunch.

It was one of the few they had had in the past five months, and they endured it only so that certain necessities might be dealt with. Despite their separation, the Gilmores were public figures within the Hartford community, and as such they had to address their schedules accordingly.

It was as they were savoring the soup course that the doorbell rang and threw off their equilibrium. Emily Gilmore frowned at sound. She was utterly appalled at the rudeness of their caller. To make an uninvited social call at mealtimes was the height of bad breeding, and Emily marvelled at the unmitigated gall of their uninvited guest. Whomever this caller was, it was high time they be taught proper social etiquette.

Richard shook his head angrily as the door went unanswered. The new maid, Anya, seemed unable to comprehend the scope of her duties, and as such, often ignored the doorbell. Raising himself from his seat, her husband stared at her reproachfully, no doubt blaming her for the abysmal training their maids underwent prior to coming to their house for work. Emily, in turn, scowled at his back as the rose to follow Richard to the door.

Emily Gilmore was determined to make her displeasure known to their caller – and her husband, once they were left to themselves once more.

In the end, they needn't have bothered themselves. For as they walked out into the entrance hall, Anya rushed to the door, glancing nervously towards her employers. With little ceremony, the maid pulled open the door. And with as much ceremony, Lorelai Gilmore strode past the startled maid.

"Lorelai?" Emily exclaimed, shocked at her daughter's appearance.

Lorelai, however, did not deign to explain herself. With a steely glare, she simply strode past them and into the Richard's study, making it quite clear that she expected them to follow her. It was thus, that with no small amount of mortification, the Gilmores stood under the curious gaze of their maid.

Tight lipped and red faced; Emily glared at her husband before marching off after her daughter.

"Lorelai," Emily began, hissing, "what on earth are you doing here."

Emily, however, was taken aback as her daughter suddenly turned to face them, gaze marred with fury. The expression upon Lorelai's features was as disconcertingly familiar as it was new. It was that same look of rebellious disgust which marked the better part of their most heated arguments – the ones that made it all too clear to Emily that her daughter wished for nothing more than to be as different from her as she possibly could. And yet there was sharpness, harshness to the expression that Emily had never encountered in the past. This small change, though Emily was loathed to acknowledge, made her weary.

Richard, for his part, did not seem to take note of this difference. And with aplomb, said, "Lorelai, for the love of God. Would you please do as your mother has asked and explain yourself?"

The scowl upon their daughter's face simply deepened – and Emily was struck at the sight. Instinctively, she reached out her hand towards her husband and grasped the man's arm. With wide, uncomprehending eyes she looked at Richard. The man stood still, his face paling and his features shocked – and in that moment, Emily knew that he had also noticed it. The expression which Lorelai presently sported was one Emily knew all too well. It was the same expression which Richard's mother, Lorelai Gilmore the First, often directed at her person. It was an expression Emily loathed. For it, in a single glance, had always conveyed just how disappointed Lorelai Gilmore the first had been with her son's choice of wife. It had made Emily feel inferior, scorned for reasons which she could never justify.

 _And her daughter was looking at her in that same way now._

With snarl which conveyed more than just a little bit of disgust, Lorelai shook her head and turned her back to them. Emily watched; mute, as her daughter took several deep breaths while looking up at Rory's portrait. For several moments, a deafening silence reined, the ticking of the grandfather clock only serving to wide Emily up all the more.

"Do you want it to happen again?" Lorelai asked her voice low but brokering no opposition.

Richard cleared his throat, "What?"

"Do you want it to happen again?" Lorelai repeated, unperturbed.

"Lorelai," Emily began, her voice wavering, not knowing what to say. In the face of such an unexpected sight, the great lady had loss all form of equanimity and wanted nothing more than for this confrontation to regain more familiar, more comfortable ground. It was only then, as she pondered how to address the situation, that Emily realised that her hand still grasped her husband's. But what was more, her husband was returning the gesture, offering her heartfelt comfort for the first time in nearly half a year.

"Lorelai," Richard cut in, hesitantly, "what are you talking about? We haven't the slightest idea of what has you so upset. What is it, exactly, that is supposedly happening again?"

"Us," their daughter whispered, brokenly.

"Lorelai," Richard began, taking a hesitant step forward.

Something in his tone, however, seemed to set her off. And before Richard could even attempt placating her, Lorelai turned angrily towards them once more, fire brimming in her eyes, "We are," she hissed, "We're happening again – only Rory's the one being frozen out, being punished because she disappointed you."

"We do not have time for this," Emily puffed, attempting to regain her bluster, "For once in your life, Lorelai listen to us wh–"

"No," their daughter yelled, her face scowling and turning red, "No. _You_ listen for once. The both of you are angry and upset – and I get that. Rory's life is currently taking a detour _none_ of us ever believed it would – not _now_ , not at _nineteen_. And your mad that Rory, _perfect little Rory_ , spoiled all your expectations. And you want to take it out on _her_ , really make her feel just how badly _she_ let you _down_. But guess what? This isn't about _you._ This isn't about how angry or hurt you are feeling – or even about how disappointed you are. _This is about my kid._ This is about _Rory_ – no one else – and right now, what my kid _needs_ is to know that the people she loves are going to support through the biggest life changing event she has ever faced. And she doesn't have time to wait around for you guys _to get over yourselves_ and stop throwing a _tantrum_. She has so many things to worry about. She doesn't need you two _badgering_ her and making her feel bad because of the mistakes she's made. Rory already feels guilty enough as it is – the last thing she needs is _you two_ piling it on!"

Insulted, Emily hissed, "She's pregnant, Lorelai."

"So?" her daughter snarled, "So what if she is? Yes, she's just nineteen years old and the situation isn't ideal. But she's not in _high school._ She's at _Yale_ and this is _Rory._ She's already fixed it with the school and upped her schedule to six classes this semester. In the winter she will drive up to Yale for her two in class courses, and will be taking two independent studies. The teachers have already been informed of her situation and will work around it when the time comes. _Rory_ will not only _graduate_ from Yale, but she'll graduate in _May 2007_ , just like she had always planned. It will be _harder_ , but she _will_ graduate. This _isn't_ the end for _her_. Just like it wasn't the end _for me._ So what's the real problem here? That her life didn't go the way you wanted to?"

"Lorelai, Rory is pregnant," Richard stated stubbornly, "And, as far as I can understand, she had no intention of telling the father. How is the man supposed to take responsibility for his actions, if Rory refuses to tell him that she is pregnant?"

"Are you kidding me?" Lorelai cried out, incredulous, "Are you seriously trying to make me believe that that's the big problem?"

"A child needs both a mother and a father, Lorelai," Emily repeated her broken pathos somberly.

Lorelai's eyes narrowed, her scowl deepening. There was nothing – nothing which angered her more than that tired, old excuse her mother always insisted on bringing up. It insulted her, for it implied, that if she had raised Rory with Christopher, Rory would have turned out to be a better, more well-rounded person. The thought of which was ridiculous, for, at sixteen years old, Christopher had been incapable of taking responsibility. He might have offered to marry her at the time, but Lorelai had always known that, if she would have taken him up on his offer, Christopher would _never_ have been able to handle the day to day. And eventually, he would have grown to not only hate her, but to resent Rory's very existence. Even now, he seemed incapable to take responsibility where Rory was concerned. And although some might argue that Lorelai had made it all too easy for him to flake out, she knew her actions mattered little in the end. Christopher was who he was. And although he might learn to evolve, to adapt – in essence, he would never really change.

"Did it _ever_ ," Lorelai hissed, "cross your minds that Rory might have had a good reason for not wanting to tell the father?"

"No," Emily laughed condescendingly, "why would we? It's not as if either one of you has been forthcoming about the situation. All we know is that our nineteen year old granddaughter is pregnant. We don't know who the father is, nor are we allowed to know. All that either one of you will tell is that the situation is complicated, but you both refuse to elaborate on why. All that we that we are allowed to know is that we have a pregnant granddaughter that will bare all of the responsibility of an unwanted pregnancy. Tell me, Lorelai, why in the world is it that you believe we should accept such a situation?"

And so, angry and upset, Lorelai lost her temper with her parents – and her tongue, "Because he's married!"

Shocked, Richard and Emily Gilmore reared back at the news. Lorelai, for her part, could only cringe at what she had done. She hadn't meant to say anything. Rory hadn't wanted her grandparents to know. But once again, Emily Gilmore got the better of her, and it all just slipped out before she could stop herself. Rory was going to be furious with her when she found out. And Lorelai was furious with her mother for getting in her head again, and for making her say something she never meant to say.

"What?" Richard gaped, "What do you mean?"

"He's married, okay," Lorelai threw her hands up, frustrated, "That's why Rory didn't want him to know about the baby. She feels guilty about the situation. And although she realises that she will have to tell him, she wanted to wait until things settled down on her end. And to be honest, I'm glad she did. I wasn't when this all started – but things have been happening. And I just think that it would be for the best if Rory was to steer clear of that situation, at least for now."

The elder Gilmores simply looked at their daughter, ashen faced and at a loss for words.

Lorelai sighed, "Look," she began, startling her parents, "even if Rory had managed to reach that point where she felt comfortable telling the father about her pregnancy – she wouldn't tell him now. Not only is he married, but news has recently gotten out that his wife is also pregnant."

Feeling faint, Emily could do nothing more than to gracelessly flop down into the seat behind her. Richard, on the other hand, managed to stand tall in the face of such devastating news – but only just.

"Rory's having a hard time of it," Lorelai crossed her arms and fidgeted, "she could really use you guys right now. She needs you guys to just accept the situation and her decisions. She needs you to try and understand how she's feeling and to support her, even if you are angry or don't agree with her."

"It wouldn't change anything Lorelai," Richard answered hollowly, "Rory will still be pregnant and alone. Nothing we do can change her situation – nothing that will matter."

Lorelai laughed brokenly, "After all these years, you still don't get it, do you?" she sniffled, refusing to cry, " _It's all that matters."_

As she looked at her daughter's heartbroken features, Emily's breath caught in her throat. Her heart plummeted to her stomach and she froze for a moment, a strange new understanding dawning upon her. Instinctively, she rose to comfort her daughter. But at the sight, Lorelai took a step back, protecting herself from the woman who had only ever found fault in her. Hurt, Emily could do nothing more than watch as her daughter shook her head and turned away from her.

The Gilmores watched as their only child walked away from them once more.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 26** **th** **2004,** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lister Residence) 2:43 p.m.**

Six days.

 _Six days she had unjustly behind bars._

Seven days ago, her daddy had been convinced that Mr. Gibson, _their esteemed lawyer,_ would not only have seen them immediately released from their cells – but the unlawful charges placed against them be dropped altogether. Her father's faith in the rotund man, however, had proven to be misplaced. For not only had Mr. Gibson failed to have the authorities release them immediately, Lindsay and her father had been forced to remain behind bars until their bail hearings, which had taken place Tuesday morning.

Once more, Mr. Gibson had proven himself to be in fine form. That morning, he not only failed to convince the judge to dismiss all charges, but also failed to convince the old crone that they could be released on their own reconnaissance without paying a bail charge. Thus it was that neither she nor her daddy would be released until they had each paid a 10,000 bail.

Needless to say, neither Lindsay nor her father had been pleased with this development and Mr. Gibson had been accordingly dismissed.

Such incompetence could not be born, after all.

In her anger, Lindsay had been tempted to call Dean, to tell him exactly how she and their unborn child had suffered at the hands of his wretched family. But she was wisely tempered by her desire to make the fool suffer. Her husband had no doubt by now, heard of his family's latest offence and was undoubtedly squirming in shame and regret. This was a state which Lindsay considered quite favorable, for it would make the idiot all the more malleable.

Although Lindsay had no doubt that the false charges would be revealed as the lies they truly were, she couldn't help but think that Dean siding with them would be an especially hard blow to the Foresters case. It would truly go a long way to show just how untrustworthy the fiends were, if their own son sided against them. And of course, Dean would side against the Foresters. How could he not? Especially knowing not only that she was pregnant with his child, but that Clara had attacked her unprovoked, and that her daddy had been assaulted by Mr. Forester when he had attempted to intervene.

No, these unjust charges would be proven fraudulent soon. If not prior to the trial, then they would be proven false in the courtroom and before the judge. Lindsay didn't doubt that the townspeople of Stars Hollow would do what was right and tell the truth of what they had seen that day. She knew that most of them had been confused, but she had set the record straight last Thursday, and had no doubt they would support her family through this trying time.

And so, not once did Lindsay wonder at her neighbours rough handling of her mother during the confrontation Shannon had with Mrs. Forester. For, in Lindsay's mind, their misguided behavior could easily be explained by the fact that the news of her plight and her pregnancy had not yet been properly spread about town. The blonde was convinced that now that the news had been properly spread, all of her neighbours who had scorned them, hissed at them and treated them so unjustly were rightfully horrified at their actions. Nor did Lindsay worry about the divorce papers, or even the restraining orders she had received, convince as she was that Dean had already seen the papers retracted.

Her mind was much more pleasantly occupied with what was yet to come. For her dear father had promised to hire the best lawyer he could find, and that soon they would see the Forester brought low by their schemes.

Lindsay delighted in the notion that soon the Foresters would receive their just deserts.

* * *

 **Tuesday October 26** **th** **2004,** **2004, Brookshire (Elvenstone Estate) 8:29 p.m.**

"Enough of this," Arthur Hayden hissed, at his wits end with his family's behavior. All he had wanted that night was a lovely family dinner. Instead, he received a sulking grandson and an angry son and daughter-in-law. The scene was made all the more disgusting as Sherry, his grandson's wife, insisted on displaying her displeasure with Christopher at every turn. Such behavior not only demonstrated an utter lack of breeding and refinement, but put Arthur off his dinner altogether.

Under different circumstances, he might have been able to stomach such coarseness more easily. However, this was quite beyond his reach at present, for Arthur had never liked Sherry Tisdale. There was shrewdness in her eyes which convinced him the woman was more interested in the Hayden name than in his grandson. To add to this, there was shrillness to her voice which Arthur had always found most displeasing.

He had always planned on willing the lion's share of his fortune to his grandson. That plan, however, seemed the less and less appealing every time he had to sit down to dinner with Christopher's shrew of a wife.

"Will one of you please tell me what has you all in such a state?" Arthur demanded.

Francine, as always, was eager to make herself useful to him, "There is nothing the matter Arthur, simply a small disagreement in the family," she smiled at him, false serenity painted upon her features.

Sherry snorted derisively.

Arthur scowled, his gaze darting back and forth between the two banes of his existence. Like Sherry, Arthur had always known that Francine was more impressed by his money than her husband. He had no doubt that the hateful woman was eagerly waiting the day he died, and her husband inherited the family fortune. Just as he had no doubt, that Sherry was just as eager to see his demise.

Angrily, he deposited his cutlery onto his plate with a loud clatter. Francine, her gaze narrowed on the expensive, fine china she was convinced she would one day inherit, startled and hissed. Pushing away his plate of untouched filet mignon, Arthur scowled at his family.

"Is it?" the patriarch asked derisively, "Tell me, Sherry, you do not seem to agree with Francine. Why is that?"

Sherry looked at him for a moment, before she raised herself up assertively, "Well –"

" _Sherry,_ " Francine hissed, cutting her off.

" _No,"_ the younger woman hissed, "I want this matter dealt with. I've had enough of this. Do you know, that Christopher not only wants to go see the girl, but offer her money as well?" Sherry scowled, "He actually wants to give that girl our hard won money, so that he can help support her!"

"Christopher," Francine exclaimed, scandalized. Straub, however, simply glared at the boy.

Sherry, unconcerned, continued, "Now, you all might have ample money to throw around. Christopher and I, however, do not. I cannot – _will not_ – give out money to that girl when it could be put to better use."

"What in the world could you be thinking, son?" Straub asked angrily, "What of Gigi? Are her needs to be placed second to that – that _harlot_?"

" _Don't call her that!"_ Christopher hissed, _"_ She's my _daughter_ – your granddaughter! How could you call her that?"

Slamming his fist against the table, Straub exclaimed, "She is not!"

"Are you kidding me?" Christopher scowled, "Of course she is!"

"No," Straub insisted, "She is not. That girl was not raised by you. Nor have you had anything more than a peripheral role in her life. She is _not_ a Hayden, nor will she ever be. You might have bedded her mother when you were young, and your seed might have given her life, but in _every_ way that _matters_ , she is _not my granddaughter._ And as such, she has nothing to do with us, or our life. _Rory Gilmore is nothing to us!_ Do you understand, my boy? It is high time you understood this son, and cut her from your life entirely. I do not know was it was which prompted you to seek her out fourteen years ago, but you must now understand that the connection is unsuitable. Just imagine, what if the girl were to someday gain influence over your daughter? What would become of poor Gigi then? No! I've had enough of this. Stop acting like a spoiled child and do as I say. _The girl is not your responsibility._ Let the Gilmores deal with their own mess."

"She's my daughter," Christopher repeated petulantly, although his tone lacked its previous strength.

"Do you see?" Sherry shrieked, "Do you understand now what I have been dealing with the past three weeks! Christopher needs to be made to understand the reality. I think that Arthur should speak to him, maybe he will be able to get through Christopher's thick skull."

"Am I to understand," Arthur began, jaw tightened in anger, "that something is amiss with my great-granddaughter."

"Oh no, Arthur," Francine gave him a relieved smile. That smile, however, turned glacial as she glanced at her son, "Gigi is well. Although her financial security is in doubt as Christopher refuses to listen to reason."

"Thank you, Francine," Arthur hissed, "but I was not speaking of Gigi. I was speaking of Rory."

"Rory," Straub spluttered, "Father, what on earth do you mean?"

Arthur, however, ignored his son. He had reached the limits of his patience, "Will one of you tell me what has happened to the girl? Why is Christopher suddenly so eager to support the her?"

"She's pregnant," Sherry stated, convinced that, once Arthur knew the full extent of the matter, he would also put his weight in to work upon her husband. She shook her head in dread of the shame which Christopher's bastard had brought upon her. Once, she had attempted to foster a relationship with the girl, believing it would help further her ambitions where Christopher was concerned – and it had.

However, pretending a fondness for the girl was now beyond her capabilities. It was one thing to endure her when she appeared such a bright, respectable girl. It was another matter altogether to endure her when she was pregnant out of wedlock – especially as her pregnancy now threatened to greatly diminish her weekly spa allowance. Dealing with Gigi day in and out, she needed those afternoon trips to the spa.

"It seems that," Sherry began, put out with the situation, "despite her apparent virtues, Rory Gilmore is no different from her mother. She has, like Lorelai, gotten pregnant outside of marriage, and at such a young age. We," Sherry nodded her head towards Straub and Francine, "have tried to reason with Christopher. But he insists on believing that the matter is somehow his concern."

"I see," Arthur shook his head, disappointed, "And so, once again, my grandson is to deny his responsibilities, is he?"

"Responsibilities?" Francine spluttered.

"Yes, _responsibilities,"_ Arthur stated forcefully, "I kept my peace all those years ago, because I honestly believed that _you,"_ he sneered at his son, "would not have denied your duty to the Gilmore girl unless you believed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the child she carried was not your grandchild," Arthur laughed derisively, "Naturally, when Christopher began to speak of the child several years afterwards, I realised my faith had been misplaced. Still, I held out hope that the matter would be rectified. But years passed, and the girl was never brought to meet me, nor did I ever receive any news of her, save what Christopher managed to share with me before you two got here to put a cork in him," he glared at Straub and Francine, "So, once again, I am disappointed in my family's lack of honor. And now, you tell me, that the girl is in some trouble and nothing has been done for her. Worse still," Arthur hissed, "that you are attempting to convince my grandson to spurn his daughter, to deny her what is her due as a _Hayden_."

"Father, you can't honestly –" Straub began, but was cut off by his father.

"Yes I can!" Arthur yelled, "I am head of this family, boy, not you. And as head of the family, I expect much better from you than this. How could you do this Straub? How could you deny your own blood?"

Excited by the turn of events, Christopher cut in, "That's what –"

"Don't you _dare_ ," Arthur hissed, turning on his grandson, "For years now, you have been a grown man, but have acted as a child. You ought to have taken responsibility for your firstborn long ago. Do not dare to sit before me, preening like a peacock because you finally saw fit to see to your responsibilities."

"I tried," Christopher attempted to defend himself, "But Lorelai wouldn't –"

"Marry you," Arthur laughed, "yes, I know. And the girl did what was best for herself and her child – something which you have yet to manage, boy."

"Father," Straub cut in, having regained his powers of speech, "this is beyond the pale! How –"

"Be quiet boy!" Arthur yelled, his face red with rage, "It is high time that the girl is seen to. And as my family seems incapable of it, I shall see to it myself!" he rose angrily from the table, "Now, be gone with you."

Straub and Francine watched, horrified as Arthur walked off. Before they could even think of following the man, of making him see reason, two footmen entered the dining room in order to escort them from the manor.

Through all of this, Sherry seethed at the turn of events. She had little doubt that Christopher would now feel justified in doing whatever he desired with their money.

Sherry refused to put with this any longer.

* * *

 **Wednesday October 27** **th** **2004,** **2004, New Haven (The Hayden's Apartment) 6:07 p.m.**

The next day, when Christopher returned from a long day's work, Christopher found Gigi crying left alone strapped to her carrier.

Sherry had left.

* * *

 **Posted December 16th 2017**


	28. Her Town

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, I'm glad you like Arthur's character. I hope you all don't hate me for what comes next. I debated about whether not I should do this, but I felt it was important to go through with it in the end. As always, please review once you're done.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 27: Her Town**

* * *

 **Saturday October 30** **th** **2004,** **2004, Stars Hollow (Daisy Street) 10:35 a.m.**

Lindsay walked down the street with her head held high. Beside her, her mother stopped in front of the beauty shop and opened the door for her. Primly, she entered the establishment, her hands tucked together in front of her, her features displaying a wounded sort of dignity which the blonde and her mother were both quite proud of.

It was as Lindsay had always thought.

As she and her mother went about town, their neighbours would avoid meeting their gaze. Some would even go as far as to turn around and head in the opposite direction simply to avoid meeting. And the Lister women knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that their neighbours were now thoroughly ashamed of their behavior and horrified of the actions they had taken against their family.

Mothers, with their heads bowed in shame, would quickly hurry their children by them. Gossip-mongers would avert their gaze and pretend to discuss some other matter whilst throwing discreet glances in their direction. Crowds would hush whenever they entered an establishment or a room and people would fidget awkwardly whenever they addressed them.

Such as now.

"Oh," Daisy Quinn exhaled, "Hello Mrs. Lister, Mrs. Lister-Forester," the girl laughed nervously, "What can I do for you."

"Hello dear," her mother answered politely, displaying her strength of character. For Daisy had been one of the misguided souls who had unjustly restrained her following her confrontation with Mrs. Forester, "I was wondering if you stocked any Lancôme skincare products."

Clearing her throat, Daisy kept her eyes trained to the cash register, "I'm sorry Mrs. Forester, but we don't carry that brand."

"Oh," her mother laughed, "Silly me, of course you don't. Such a small town beauty shop wouldn't hold such quality products. I do not know what I was thinking. I do apologise for wasting your time my dear. Lindsay and I will simply have to go into to Hartford to get what we need. Have a good day."

As the Lister women exit the shop, they share a triumphant look with one and other, convinced that their pristine reputation had been restored. They revelled in the belief that, once more, truth and justice had prevailed as it made its way through the Stars Hollow gossip vine.

* * *

 **Saturday October 30** **th** **2004,** **2004, Stars Hollow, 10:35 a.m.**

And so, once more, because reality did not suit them, the Lister women convinced themselves that everything was proceeding as they believed it should, simply because they willed it to. If only they had been less conceited, less self-righteous, they might have realised that shame was not at the root of their neighbours aloofness, but rather disgust, anger and fear.

Too much had happened.

Too much ugliness of character had been revealed.

A town meeting had been called last Friday and the matter had been decided. The Listers would no longer be welcomed amongst their neighbours. Such violent, immoral individuals could not be allowed to take an active part in their quaint little town's society.

They were to be frozen out.

* * *

 **Sunday October 28** **th** **2004,** **2004, New Haven (Christopher's Apartment) 3:04 a.m.**

He was trying to figure out a way to keep Gigi in her crib when he received the call.

Christopher should have known that he wouldn't have heard the end of it. But Sherry had left, and he was all too busy trying to figure out a way to deal with her to even give a thought to Rory – or the fight that had broken out amongst his family because of her. He'd tried calling Lorelai, to get her to help him. But the woman had steadily refused to answer his calls. If only Lorelai would answer, than maybe he could explain and she could stop being so spiteful.

But that was of little consequence at the moment.

 _He should have known it wouldn't be the end of it._

Straub Hayden had never been capable of withstanding contradiction. Rather than accepting that other might have a point of view different to his own, the man had always plowed forward, attempting to persuade, or even bully, others into conceding to his point of view.

His grandfather's utter dismissal of Straub's opinion on the Rory situation would have rubbed his father the wrong way.

 _He should have known that his father would never have just let things be._

As it was, in the tragedy of being left to raise a child on his own, the thought had entirely escaped Christopher's mind. And so it was that early that morning, his mother had called him to give him the news. Saturday evening, his father had gone to confront Arthur Hayden, to attempt to reason with the man. But, naturally, both of stubborn character and both believing themselves to be in the right, they had gotten into a fight. His grandfather had refused to bend to Straub's will. And his father, incensed at being so dismissed, refused to drop the matter. As things went on, the angrier they had both become – and the more agitated Arthur had become. His father, however, so focused on winning his argument, had failed to notice the signs.

It wasn't until Arthur Hayden suddenly paled and fell into a slump that his son realised that he had gone too far.

By then, however, it was much too late.

Arthur Hayden had died.

* * *

 **Sunday October 31** **st** **2004,** **2004, Stars Hollow (Town Square) 11:51 a.m.**

This couldn't be happening.

 _How could this be happening?_

What had she ever done to deserve this?

Rory wasn't vain, but she liked to think that she was a good person. So, being a good person, why would life be so cruel to her? Were the fates having a great big laugh at her expense? Whatever the reason, someone certainly seemed intent on kicking her whilst she was down.

How else could one explain her present situation?

All Rory had wanted to do that morning was visit the bookstore. Maybe even take in some of the Halloween festivities. There wouldn't be much until tonight, but Rory wanted to do what little she could before she left for Yale later that afternoon.

And Rory was bored.

Her mom was busy working at the Dragonfly and Lane was busy setting up for a gig tonight. Ordinarily, she would just drive back to Yale early and spend some time in the library, but that wasn't an option right now. Her car had broken down two weeks ago, and what had seemed like a minor problem had evolved into a bigger problem, and her car was still in the shop two weeks later. As a result, Marty had been dropping her off in Stars Hollow on his way home on the week-ends, and picking her up on his way back to Yale. But Marty wouldn't be in Stars Hollow before four that afternoon, and Rory needed to have something to occupy her mind before she went crazy.

And so, the bookstore had seemed like the best option.

Despite that, it had taken her forever to muster up the courage to risk the outing. At eighteen weeks, Rory's baby bump was becoming noticeably pronounced and she had had to get creative. Thus, the old reliable mou-mou had once more entered the scene. The voluminous knitted sweater did a great job at hiding her condition. Swathed in its folds, one couldn't even notice the tell-tale rounding of her stomach. At most, one might venture to suggest that she had gained weight, but even that was highly unlikely, as the sweater rendered her shapeless.

She had just reached the town square when it had happened, and Rory froze where she stood.

There, just a few feet away from her, stood Dean Forester was walking into Luke's. Thankfully, he seemed too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice her gawking at him through the window. He looked worried and worn, but he was still as striking as he ever was. His hair was shorter than it had been the last time she saw him, and it curled slightly at the edges, sending a shudder of desire down Rory's spine.

In that moment, all she wanted to do was to kiss him. But had happened to change her situation for the better – only for the worst. Dean was still married to Lindsay, only now, she was also pregnant. And the pain of that knowledge, which she had buried deep within her for the past week, resurfaced with a vengeance. Her heart aching, eyes and lungs burning, Rory turned and quickly made her way back home, unwilling to allow her neighbours and friends to see her crying.

Reaching her childhood home, Rory swiftly closed the door and promptly slid to the floor. Lying there, she cried for well over an hour before she had calmed herself enough to think properly.

Dean was still married.

His wife was pregnant and so was she.

She was so afraid of what people would say, that she had spent the better part of a month avoiding people she loved just to put off the inevitable. For it was inevitable, people would eventually find out that she was pregnant and nothing would change that. Just as, sooner or later, people would know that she had had sex with Dean while he was married to Lindsay. Although Rory had done a fairly good job at ignoring it, Rory knew that she would have to tell Dean about the baby before she actually had it. And although she wouldn't do it now, nor so soon after he had learned his wife was pregnant, she couldn't avoid the reality of her situation for much longer

It was then, lying broken on the dirty floor that Rory decided that she wouldn't hide anymore. Stars Hollow was her town and it was time she became a part of it once more.

* * *

 **Tuesday November 2** **nd** **2004,** **2004, Brookshire (Elvenstone Estate) 10:43 a.m.**

Francine Hayden stared, utterly gobsmacked, at the executor of Arthur Hayden's estate, "Is that all?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes," Henry Phillips nodded his head, "As I stated before. Mr. Hayden left specific instructions in his will. Your son, Christopher, is to receive fifty million upon the execution of his will. You and your husband are to receive twenty-five million."

"But," Shannon spluttered, "What of his estates? His bonds? His investments? Not to mention the majority of his wealth? The man was a billionaire, for heaven's sake! Where did all that money go?"

"Well," Mr. Phillips, the executor, shuffled some papers for a moment, "Your father-in-law left fifty million to various charities. As for the rest, the majority of it was willed to his great-granddaughter."

Francine frowned, "He left it all to Gigi?"

Beside her, Christopher startled at the information. He shared an astonished look with his mother, excited at the prospect. Francine, however, sneered at the knowledge. She had waited nearly forty years for that inheritance, and to know that she had been passed over in favor of her granddaughter soured the love she had for the child.

"No," Mr. Phillips stated, shaking his head, "Miss. Georgia Hayden was willed five hundred million, which is to be placed into a trust until her twenty-fifth birthday."

Francine shrieked, " _What?_ But you just told us that the old goat had left almost everything to his great-granddaughter!"

"Yes," the man smiled, "his eldest great-granddaughter – one Lorelai Leigh _Rory_ Gilmore."

Francine let out a horrified shriek, "But this can't be," she wailed. Desperately, she turned towards her husband and snarled, "Straub, do something! You can't allow our inheritance to fall into the hands of that – that – _bastard._ "

Much too shocked at what had just been revealed, and suffering under some resentment, Christopher ignored his mother's insult. Instead, pale-faced and incredulous, he asked, "Rory? Grandpa left everything to _Rory?_ " Christopher frowned, "But he's never even met her."

Francine, for her part, let out a frustrated wail, " _Straub!_ "

Her moans, however, had little effect. For, in his father's death, Straub had seen himself as he truly was for the first time in years. _How could he not, when his own father had looked on him last, not with pride and joy, but with anger and disgust._

He had been, in the eyes of his father, a dishonourable lout. Blight upon the Hayden family. But most of all, Straub now fully comprehended that, in those last moments of life, his father had seen him as an utter disappointment.

The news that his father had seen fit to disinherit him in favor of the granddaughter he had never acknowledged, only served to reinforce that particular realization. And so he sat, face ashen, staring listlessly before him, his pride and ambition drained.

"I apologise Mrs. Hayden," Mr. Phillips smiled tightly, an edge of steel now present in his tone, "But Arthur Hayden was quite clear in his final wishes. And, knowing his wishes would undoubtedly contradict yours, the man saw to it that no one could challenge his will. You, your son and youngest granddaughter shall receive the funds I have listed, but everything else, save what was left for charity and what was willed to Lorelai _Victoria_ Gilmore, shall go to _Rory Gilmore."_

Distressed, Francine looked about, searching in vain for some glimmer of hope. Seeing her apathetic husband and bewildered son would not be of use, Francine set her mind on finding a mean of re-appropriating the funds, "But this can't be," she muttered beneath her breath, "it can't," she angrily slammed her fist against the table. It was then, that quite suddenly, the woman stilled as a thought crossed her mind, "But the girl is no more than eighteen years old. Surely Arthur would not have allowed such a young woman unrestricted access to such a large sum."

"He did not," Mr. Phillips sighed, "Mr. Hayden willed his great-granddaughter a sum of five hundred millions, to be made accessible to her upon the execution of his will. The property, the investments and the remaining funds are to be all to be placed in trust until her twenty-fifth birthday. The yearly interest will, however, be made available to her. This task, in addition to the overall management of the estate, shall fall under the purview of two trustees."

Letting out a relieved sigh, Francine put her hand to her heart. If they still had control of the funds, surely they would be able to find a way to legally transfer the inheritance into their names before the girl turned twenty-five? Taking a deep breath, Francine felt hopeful, "So Straub and I shall be in-charge of overseeing the matter," the woman smiled beatifically and nodded, "You can trust that we shall see to it that the funds are not wasted."

The calculating gleam in her eyes, however, left Mr. Phillips in no doubt, that even now, the woman was plotting to see the funds swiftly removed from the trust and placed into her own pockets.

"Mrs. Hayden," the man smiled patronizingly, "It seems you have misunderstood. Yes, your father-in-law chose two trustees to manage the estate. However, neither you nor your husband was named."

"Then," Francine frowned, glancing at her son.

Even as Christopher Hayden jumped at attention, an odd mixture of pride, displeasure and greed displayed on his features, Mr. Phillips sought to put this line of questionning at an end, "Arthur Hayden's last will and testament clearly states that Lorelai _Victoria_ Gilmore and Richard Gilmore are to act as joint trustees of Miss. Gilmore's estate. I am afraid that your son, just as you, has no hold upon the estate _whatsoever._ "

* * *

 **Tuesday November 2** **nd** **2004,** **2004, Stars Hollow, 10:45 a.m.**

There was a new rumor going around in town.

No one really knew where it had come from. Some supposed that the Gossip Queens of Stars Hollow had put their collective hats together and leaked their outrageous suppositions to the general public. Babette, after all, did have an overly rampant imagination and was prone to be persuaded into doing the silliest of things. Just as Miss. Patty had a flair for the dramatic and would often discard the truth in favor of something far juicier.

In any event, no one really cared how the rumor came about. All the good people of Stars Hollow really cared about was the fact that, for two weeks in a row now, some strange young man had been escorting their beloved Rory back and forth between Stars Hollow and Yale.

When Babette had reported the incident two weeks ago, no one had made much of it at first. Although there had been a general curiosity as to who this mysterious boy might be, it had been greatly tempered by all the drama happening between the Forester and Lister families. Why wonder about the identity of some boy, no matter his connection to the most loved young girl in town, when there was much juicier news going about town?

But then the incident had happened a second time.

Their interests had been peaked.

Could it be?

 _Could Rory Gilmore have a new boyfriend?_

* * *

 **Tuesday November 2** **nd** **2004,** **2004, Brookshire (Elvenstone Estate) 10:58 a.m.**

Francine Hayden seethed as she exited the drawing room. To say that the reading of the will had not gone to her expectations would be to say _the least_. Why, the entire thing had been a disaster, from start to finish!

Oh, the very thought of it all was repugnant.

 _Her inheritance, to be squandered on that bastard girl!_

The thought was utterly inconceivable.

Francine wouldn't stand for it.

She would have the matter settled in the only way available.

Turning on her son with sharp, shrewd eyes, Francine demanded, "Tomorrow, you will go to that girl."

Eyes widening, a small glimmer of hope lit in Christopher's eyes, "Does this mean that you –"

"I will have our lawyer draw up some papers," Francine continued, paying her son no attention whatsoever.

"Papers?" Christopher echoed, frowning in confusion.

"You will do whatever it is you need to do to get that girl to sign them. Your grandfather might have made it impossible for us to challenge the will. However, I doubt anyone will object if the girl were to deny the inheritance and turn everything back over to _us."_

Christopher's face paled at his mother's scheme, looking for all the world as a little boy loss in the great, big, wilderness.

Even Straub, who had reacted to hardly anything since his father's death, appeared shaken by his wife's demands. He looked upon the woman, frowning in dissatisfaction. He, like his father before him, now gleaned an important facet of his wife's character which he had never noted before. And just as Arthur Hayden had been, Straub was both repelled and made weary by it.

Snarling, Christopher rebelled at the notion, "You can't really believe that I would do that to –"

"Oh, honestly Christopher," Francine cut the boy off, waving her hand dismissively. With a dissatisfied sniff, she looked down upon her son, "Would you, for once, use your head."

"She's my _daughter,"_ Christopher hissed defensively.

"She is a girl you _sired_ out of _wedlock_ when you were _sixteen,"_ Francine insisted, "and now, she is to inherit _everything_ which ought to have been _yours._ Think about it Christopher, do you really want that? Giving her a bit of money to help her out is one thing, but to concede your inheritance to her? The girl would waste it, no matter what you say. And what of Gigi? What of yourself? Your wife just left you son. That inheritance could have helped you a great deal."

"Grandad left me fifty million, mom. I think I'll be fine with that," Christopher said stubbornly, but Straub could tell that his wife was wearing him down.

"Like you were fine last time," Francine needled, reminding her son of his wasted trust fund. She looked at him pleadingly, "Oh, my dear boy. You have had such a hard time of it as of late. You deserve to have an easier life than you have been dealt. You should not have to worry about such things. _You deserve your inheritance."_

Christopher shook his head in denial, but his determination was holding on by a thread.

Seeing this, Francine smiled and cut the final thread, "If you truly want to, you can see to it that Rory is well taken care of yourself," she placated him, "but first, you have to see to it that she signs everything over to us."

Christopher remained quiet for several long moments. Swallowing the bile in his throat, he finally agreed to his mother's demands. _It was for the best_ , he convinced himself, _they all deserved a larger share that they had been given. And Rory wouldn't mind – he would see to it that she would be well cared for in the end._

Left off to the side, Straub Hayden turned his gaze to the floor, mute.

He wondered, _was this how my father has felt for the past two decades?_

* * *

 **Wednesday November 3** **rd** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lister Residence) 9:29 a.m.**

It had been a long and tiring week for Michel Lister.

His unlawful arrest, followed by the mortifying experience of actually having to post bail had taken quite a lot of him. However, due to the obvious incompetence of Mr. Gibson, Reginald Lister had been unable to rest. He had needed to find a new lawyer, a better lawyer – and quickly. This gross miscarriage of justice could not be allowed to stand for a single moment longer.

And so, Reginald had searched and searched, before finally settling on a bright young lawyer by the name of Brent Miller. His fee was steep, but it would be worth every penny to see the Foresters receive their just due. Of course, due to the fact that he had to pay such an exorbitant amount for he and his daughter to post bail, he was a tad strapped for cash.

As a result he had needed to dip into funds he would have preferred to leave untouched for some years more…

Still, the Foresters had sought out a fight with him, and Reginald would not disappoint them.

 _He would see them suffer for their sins._

* * *

 **Posted December 19th 2017**


	29. Double, Double, Toil & Trouble

**Author's Note:** Well, I am pretty sure that you guys are anxious for this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. As always, please do not forget to review.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 28: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble**

* * *

 **Wednesday November 3** **rd** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dragonfly Inn) 8:29 a.m.**

"What about cheese sticks?" Sookie asked, looking over her list, "those would be easy to serve."

"Cheese sticks are good," Lorelai said enthusiastically, "Although," she frowned, "I really don't see why your determined to have throughout the room on silver platers."

"The Holland event is coming up, remember?" Sookie answered distractedly.

"Ri-ght," Lorelai nodded her head, confused.

Rolling her eyes, Sookie prodded, "The fancy-smanchy 10th wedding anniversary party?"

"Oh, right. The Holland event," Lorelai grimaced, "Remind to go to the Linen Chest. They were pretty specific about what they wanted for tablecloths and napkins."

"Yes, well," Sookie laughed, "I had to hire two extra waiters for that event. Their references are pretty good, but I want to make sure that they are up to snuff. Ergo…"

"We will be serving fast-food on silver platters for Rory's birthday party," Lorelai smirked, "Got it. Although," she scrunched her nose, "I'm not sure serving the burgers that way would be a good idea."

Sookie smirked, giddy with excitement, "Sliders!"

"What now?" the brunette asked.

"Mini-burgers. I was thinking I could play around a bit. Instead of beef burgers, I could make some pulled pork sliders with onion rings and mesquite BBQ sauce. It'll taste great."

Smiling widely, Lorelai lied and unenthusiastically answered, "Sure."

Sookie gave her a reproachful look.

"But," the brunette bit her lip, "how about you make some regular burgers too. You know, just in case some people don't dig the pulled pork vibe."

"Fine," Sookie sighed, "but I'm making them slider sized. Just like the pulled pork burgers."

"Deal!" Lorelai exclaimed, happy to have avoided _that_ particular bear trap.

"Now," Sookie began, but was abruptly cut off by the sound of Lorelai's ring tone.

" _Do you remember the time_ _  
_ _I knew a girl from mars?_ _  
_ _I don't know if you knew that_ _  
_ _Oh we'd stay up late playing cards_ _  
_ _Henri winterman cigars_ _  
_ _Though she never told me her name_ _  
_ _I still love you girl from mars."_

"Sorry," Lorelai pulled out her cellphone, "I've got to answer this. It's Rory."

Stepping away from Sookie, Lorelai walked into the store cupboard and answered the call, "Hey kiddo, what's up?"

"Have you talked to grandma and grandpa lately?" Rory asked her tone marred in confusion.

"Why?" Lorelai asked, apprehensive.

"I," Rory sighed, hesitating, "I just checked my messages, and I found a weird one."

"A weird one?" Lorelai asked disturbed.

"Yeah," Rory shuffled some papers, "It was from someone named Henry Phillips. He said that I had received an inheritance and asked if I could meet him sometime soon to go over the details. Have grandma and grandpa released the trust they set up for me?"

"Uh," Lorelai bit her lip, "I don't know sweetie. How about I call grandma and find out for you?"

"Sure," Rory answered, relieved, "but you won't be able to call me back until lunch time. I'm heading in to class right now."

"Sure kiddo," Lorelai sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I'll talk to you later."

* * *

 **Wednesday November 3** **rd** **2004, Yale (Rory's Dorm) 8:35 a.m.**

Rory sighed, relieved. Hopefully her mom would get to the bottom of what was going on with her grandparents. She couldn't understand why they would just suddenly decide to release her trust fund. The entire thing made absolutely no sense and she was anxious for answers. Unfortunately, her cellphone had been turned off when Mr. Phillips had called and as a result she hadn't spoken to the man herself. All she really knew was that she had been left an inheritance. She assumed that the inheritance in question was from her grandparents – because who else would leave her any kind of money?

Rory didn't like it.

Ever since she received the call, all she could do was dream up various reasons why her grandparents would suddenly deem fit to release her trust fund six years early? All Rory could come up with, was that they had released to her now because of her pregnancy. But that still left the all-important questions. Had they released the trust because they wanted her and the baby financially secure? Or had they released it simply because they couldn't stomach the idea of having anything more to do with her?

Whatever it was, Rory couldn't afford to worry about it all day. Midterms had started and she couldn't afford to botch an exam right now. She needed to pass all of her classes with flying colors. Not only for the sake of her GPA, but for the future of her academic career. If all went well this semester, she could forward to a reduced course load for the next two semesters until she settled into motherhood.

Grabbing her schoolbag, Rory rushed to door of her dorm.

On opening it, however, Rory was startled to find her path blocked by her father, Christopher Hayden.

* * *

 **Wednesday November 3** **rd** **2004, Hartford (Gilmore Mansion) 8:37 a.m.**

Emily Gilmore sat at her dining room table alone, eating a light breakfast. For years, she had sat at this table, taking her breakfast alone every morning. This was nothing new, as her husband had always left for work early in the morning and her daughter had left her home nearly two decades ago. And yet, as of late, the routine had grown tiresome and lonely.

The winter chill had firmly settled in the air. By now, Emily was typically pre-occupied with all the holiday events she had to attend, and those she had to plan. But the sentiment was lacking this year. Staring at Richard's empty chair, Emily simply couldn't seem to get into the spirit of the season.

"Mrs. Gilmore?" Rosetta, the new housemaid, asked, "a phone call for you Mrs. Gilmore."

"A phone call?" Emily asked, confused and still lost in her thoughts.

"Yes, mam," the maid answered subserviently, "it's your daughter mam."

"My daughter?" Emily echoed distractedly. But within a moment, she seemed to finally grasp what was being said, "my daughter?"

"Yes, mam," Rosetta confirmed nervously.

"Well," Emily said, impatient, "Whatever are you waiting for? Hand me the phone."

Poor, dear Rosetta stumbled over the carpet in her haste to comply with the order. Emily grimaced at the sight.

 _Just once, she would like to have a competent maid working about the house._

Grasping the phone eagerly, Emily faltered for a moment, putting her hand over the receiver in order to block all sound. The woman then took a deep breath and steeled herself, "Lorelai?" she asked, pretending to be distracted and unconcerned. Unless one knew her very well, one wouldn't know that Emily Gilmore had spent that past two days agonizing over a way to improve her relationship with her daughter.

"You know mom," Lorelai began sarcastically, "when I asked you and dad to support Rory, _I wasn't asking you to give her money_."

"I don't understand," Emily frowned.

"It's simple mom," Lorelai stated, exasperated, " _I wanted you to support her emotionally._ To let Rory know that you still love her, no matter how much she might screw up. I mean," Lorelai sighed heavily, "I guess it's good that she'll have some money. But it won't be worth much if Rory doesn't know that you're behind her, one hundred percent."

"Lorelai," Emily said, utterly confused, "I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about."

"The inheritance?" Lorelai deadpanned.

"What inheritance?" the eldest Gilmore exclaimed.

"Mr. Phillips called mom," she stated exasperatedly, "he told Rory she had been left an inheritance and that he wanted to talk to her as soon as she could manage it."

"Lorelai," Emily began, worried, "I have never met this Mr. Phillips. I have no idea what it is you are talking about."

* * *

 **Thursday November 4** **th** **2004, Yale (Courtyard) 6:53 p.m.**

"Christopher did what?" her mom asked, looking at her incredulously.

Rory shook her head and looked away, still feeling raw from the experience. She couldn't believe what had happened today. Rory had always known her father had always been more concerned with himself than with her. It had always been about his feelings – his guilt. She had never wanted to admit it, not even to herself, but Rory had always known that when her father did actually bother to show up, it had more to do with guilt than anything else. Just as she had always known that, when it came down between her wellbeing and his, he would always chose his.

 _Today had proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt._

"His grandfather died," Rory sniffled, "and apparently he left me some money. Dad came over with some papers today. He wanted me to sign them. He said that he needed me to sign them, so that the inheritance could be transferred," she shook her head, attempting to ignore the tears falling down her face, "but he was acting so weird and none of it made any sense. Why would Mr. Phillips have asked to meet me to discuss the inheritance if he'd given dad papers for me to sign? So, I tried to take a look at the document, but he wouldn't let me. _He just kept on insisting that I sign on the dotted line."_

Rory began sobbing in earnest then, "But I couldn't. Something was wrong. _I could tell._ And then, _he just got so mad_! He was yelling and crowding me – and – and –," she cried deeply, "all but forcing the pen in my hand. And then I saw it."

"Saw what?" Lorelai asked, chocked up and trying to comfort her daughter by rubbing her back like she was a colicky child.

"The paper," Rory cried, face red and blotched with tears, "they weren't papers stating that I was accepting the inheritance that his grandfather left me. They were papers stating that I was _denying_ the inheritance and transferring it in dad's name."

"Oh Rory," Lorelai hugged her daughter tight, heartbroken and wishing for nothing more than to stab Christopher with a rusted knife several times over.

Lorelai continued rubbing her daughter's back as Rory cried into her shoulder. They were sitting at the fountain out in the courtyard and were attracting quite a bit of attention as a result. But Lorelai didn't care. All she cared about was her heartbroken daughter.

"He said all he wanted to do was make sure I was properly taken care," she cried, "that I could still do whatever I wanted no matter what. But he lied, didn't he?"

"Oh Rory," Lorelai hugged her daughter tightly.

"All he cared about was the money," Rory sobbed, broken.

* * *

 **Thursday November 4** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lilac Grove) 4:17 a.m.**

George Wick cursed for the hundredth time.

Lindsay had, once again, declined his call. He was just about ready to march up to her parents' house in order to strangle the bitch. Wasn't it bad enough that the whore had blown him off three times that months – now she refused to answer his calls?

 _He needed to talk to her damn it!_

For the first time in weeks, he'd gone back home to Stars Hollow in order to visit his parents. He had figured that, like always, it would all be the same old shit. But then, when he actually got home, his mother just couldn't wait to tell him all about the scandalous happenings around town.

George, like anyone else, had been shocked to learn all that had happened between the Foresters and the Listers in the past couple of weeks.

But he'd been even more shocked to find out that his favorite fuck buddy was knocked up.

George dreaded the very thought that it could be his. Yet, at the same time, he had a perverse desire to know whether he had accomplished the deed, or whether the beef paddy had.

But, more than that, he wanted to insure that Lindsay knew not to expect anything from him. He might still fuck her if she asked nicely. But no way in hell would he wind up a hook for the brat.

* * *

 **Friday November 5** **th** **2004, New Haven (H &F Clinic) 9:59 a.m**.

Rory hadn't expected this.

She hadn't expected this at all.

After all that had happened that week, Rory was emotionally strung out. All she had wanted to do that morning was to go the clinic, get her first ultrasound and then go home and snuggle down in her bed.

But that wasn't going to happen now.

Not with Emily Gilmore sitting there in the waiting, looking awkwardly around her.

Rory had barely had a chance to share a reticent glance with her mother when, as a shark scenting blood in water, Emily Gilmore towards them. Caught, they could do nothing more than to comply as the predator waved them over, her sharp teeth gleaming as she struggled to smile at them. The girls resigned themselves to what was to come, for past experience had taught that struggling was futile once you fell into Emily Gilmore's grasp.

Rory, to her utter dismay, ended up sitting between her mother and grandmother, the former purposely sitting two seats down from Emily. And for several long, excruciating minutes, not a single one of them spoke. Her mother did not attempt to distract her with jokes. And her grandmother did not even deign to offer an explanation for her presence. In fact, now that they had joined her, Emily Gilmore seemed to be ignoring the room at large, themselves included. Frowning, Rory observed the woman. At first, nothing seemed out of place. Her grandmother sat primly upon her plastic chair, legs crossed and purse upon her lap. However, closer inspection led Rory to realise that her grandmother's unwavering gaze was settled in the far corner of the ceiling.

With no small amount of incredulity, Rory realised her grandmother was literally counting the tiles on the ceiling.

 _If she felt the need to go to such length to ignore them, why had she even bothered to show up?_

"Rory Gilmore?" A nurse in powder blue scrubs called out to the waiting room, startling Rory.

Standing up quickly, she looked at the nurse nervously.

Smiling, the woman waved her off towards the left corridor, "It's the second room," she elaborated, winking, "Good luck."

Behind her, her grandmother shuffled with her things, clearly preparing to follow her into the room. Unable to stomach the idea of Emily Gilmore glaring imperiously down at her during her first sonogram, Rory looked pleadingly towards her mother. Lorelai, for her part, didn't seem too keen on the idea of staying behind in the waiting room with her mother. But, blessedly, she seemed to understand.

Quickly grasping a hold of Emily arm, her mother shook her head negatively. Emily seemed quite to put out, but after a moment or two of glaring, the elder Gilmore seemed to resign herself. And so, happily, Rory made her way to the examination room alone.

* * *

 **Friday November 5** **th** **2004, New Haven (H &F Clinic) 10:18 a.m**.

Rory took a deep breath and attempted to calm herself. It was, however, hard to regain one's equanimity when dressed in nothing more than a paper gown and her legs placed into stirrups.

"Okay now," Dr. Summers smiled, gliding the wand on Rory's stomach, "we're getting somewhere. I see a little foot wiggling about. Would you like to know the sex?"

"Already?" Rory gasped.

Dr. Summers laughed, "You're over nineteen weeks along Rory. As long as the baby is being co-operative, than yes, I should be able to tell you the gender."

"Oh," she looked at the doctor with wide eyes.

"Now, would you like to –" Dr. Summers began, but cut off abruptly. Looking at the image on the screen, the doctor frowned and tilted her head. Squinting, the woman slowly moved the wand to left, her expression pensive as she looked at the screen.

Realizing something was amiss, Rory began to panic, "What?" she asked, "What is it? Is something wrong?"

Dr. Summers, however, was entirely concentrated on the sonogram before her. And so, several long minutes passed in silence. Rory's eyes had begun to sting before Dr. Summer suddenly shook her head and smiled. Turning towards Rory, the doctor's eyes widened as she took in the state the brunette was in, "Oh," Dr. Summers cried, "don't worry. Nothing is wrong. I'm sorry – it's just, this is the first time I have seen one."

"Seen what?" Rory asked apprehensively.

Dr. Summers smiled widely, her eyes sparkling, "A multiple pregnancy," she sighed, "Congratulations Rory, you're expecting twins – a bouncing baby boy and a beautiful baby girl."

* * *

 **Friday November 5** **th** **2004, Hartford (Andrews, Golstone and Associates) 2:43 p.m.**

"Well Mr. Lister," Brent Miller smiled at his client widely, "you'll be happy to know that I filed all of the documents we talked of. Now, all we have to do is wait.

"Oh, my boy," Reginal Lister grinned widely, "that is such good news!"

Happily, the man reached his hand out to Brent, wishing to give the young man a hearty handshake. Beside him, his wife Shannon let out a relieved sigh. After all the Foresters had done to her family, Shannon had begun to worry about their security. But now, thankfully, she could rest easy knowing that justice would soon be served and that her family need not fear any further altercations with the Foresters.

Lindsay, for her part, smirked victoriously.

 _She just couldn't wait to see their faces._

"Now," Brent Miller continued, "there is just one matter we have yet to discuss."

Frowning, Reginald looked at the young man, "Matter? What matter?" he asked, "I was sure we had already covered everything?"

"No Mr. Lister," Brent shook his head, "it seems that, in all the fuss, we have yet to discuss how your daughter would like to proceed in the matter of her divorce."

"Divorce?" Lindsay shrieked.

Reginald Lister spluttered at the news. His wife Shannon, however, could only look upon Brent with horrified amazement.

"But – But," Lindsay stuttered, "those papers were supposed to have been retracted by now! There must be a mistake."

"I'm afraid not," Brent sighed, "according to the information I have, the divorce proceedings are underway. We are expected to meet your husband and his lawyer on November the 12th for mediation meeting. There, we are to decide if the terms the Foresters have settled for the divorce are acceptable, or if you prefer to go to court."

* * *

 **Friday November 5** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Wickery Bridge) 5:22 p.m.**

Dean groaned as he pressed decline once more.

For the past three hours, Lindsay had been calling him every few minutes. You would think that, after the first two dozen declined calls, his wife would get the message. But no, Lindsay was as stubborn as she was obtuse and she just kept on calling.

He'd have to change his cell and number.

Dean was tired of having to deal with her theatrics.

* * *

 **Friday November 5** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lindsay's Apartment) 5:25 p.m.**

Lindsay Lister-Forester looked upon her apartment with horrified eyes.

 _Everything was the same._

The mess that the Foresters had made of her dingy little apartment had not been cleaned. All of her appliances were still missing. And none of her furniture had been replaced.

Dean had never even returned to the apartment.

When their new lawyer had told her that the divorce was still underway, Lindsay hadn't believed him. She'd been shocked at the news – but that shock was mostly due to her perceived ineptitude of Dean's lawyer. For, how else could it be that over two weeks after she had announced her pregnancy to her husband, that the divorce papers had yet to be retracted.

But Dean hadn't returned to the apartment. He hadn't cleaned it nor had he replaced any of the items his wretched family had stolen.

That couldn't be possible.

Not unless the fool still thought to divorce her.

* * *

 **Posted December 21st 2017**


	30. Surprise!

**Author's Note:** Well guys, I hope you are reading this because I have an announcement to make. My goal when I began editing this piece a few months ago was to see it completed and posted by Christmas. Although I hadn't been quite sure I would succeed in this, I am now pleased to announce that, by Christmas day, all of WS will be posted and available for your reading pleasure. As such, I will not only be posting daily until Christmas, I will also be posting twice a day. Believe it or not, this story only has six chapters left with the epilogue included.

I'm sorry to see our time coming at an end, but I am happy to know that soon this story will finally be completed to my satisfaction.

I hope you all enjoy your Christmas present.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 29: Surprise!**

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 9:54 a.m.**

It was time.

Rory knew she couldn't hide any longer. She was nineteen weeks pregnant, for the love of Tolkien. What's more, she was pregnant with twins! She might have been able to get away with hiding her pregnancy up until now, but Rory knew that her condition would be more than obvious by the time thanksgiving rolled around. And the last thing Rory wanted was the main attraction during Thanksgiving dinner at the Dragonfly.

No, Rory had decided.

Now was the perfect time to reveal her pregnancy to the people of Stars Hollow. Besides, the better part of the worst of it was over and done with. Her mother knew. Her grandparents knew. And so did her father, although Christopher Hayden mattered very little to her at the moment. Rory was still reeling from the knowledge that her own father had chosen money over her. It might have been naïve, especially knowing that Christopher had chosen money before her once before, but Rory still hadn't believed that the father she knew, despite all of his faults, could do such a thing to her. Needless to say, her eyes had been opened wide where the man was concerned – and she had no intention of ever closing them again. She had meeting with Mr. Phillips on Monday, and with her mother's support, she would find out exactly how much it had cost for her to willfully throw away her love in the way he had.

But that was not her main concern at the moment.

Rory's main concern was steeling herself for the reactions of the good people of Stars Hollow…

And reminding herself that, no matter what, it was highly unlikely her friends and neighbours would chase her out of town with pitchforks.

Her mother had already shared the news with Sookie and Luke, which, according to her mother, had gone quite well. Sookie had stared at Lorelai for several minutes unable to utter a sound. And Luke had sworn up a storm and threatened to neuter several young men which her believed might be the culprit – but again, it had gone surprisingly well.

The only really concern Rory had left had been the obvious one.

 _Dean._

She didn't know how he would react to the news. Although she doubted he would confront her in public, not with his marriage on the line, Rory couldn't ignore the possibility of some confrontation altogether.

However, she would concede that it was high time that something happened in that particular quarter. Yes, Lindsay was also pregnant. But Rory couldn't put telling Dean off until after the twins were born. And so Rory decided that she would give Dean a few weeks to adjust to the idea. She had no doubt that the news would reach him within a day. From there, he could do what he needed to do – whether it was to confront her or to take some time to think things over. If Dean didn't contact her in the next couple of weeks, Rory would find a way to speak to him after Thanksgiving.

"Hey kiddo," her mother smirked from her bedroom door, "Ready for some shopping?"

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 8:04 p.m.**

He didn't know what to do.

The better part of him _really_ wanted to follow through on the idea bouncing around his head.

However, Dean knew all too well that his presence might not be welcomed. The last time he had seen Rory, they had just had sex in Miss. Patty's dance studio. Dean _didn't_ even want to _think_ of the last time he had seen Lorelai. Even now, months later, the look of pity she gave him that day made him feel utterly pathetic.

Still, the thought kept nagging at him.

 _It was stupid really._ Dean knew that, if the Gilmore girls had been the type to hand out personal invitations, _he would have never received one._ But it was _Rory's birthday_ and Miss. Patty had spread the word around town about the surprise birthday bash that was to be had at the Dragonfly. Maybe…

Maybe he could just show up for a couple of minutes? Wish Rory a happy birthday. Surely there could be no harm in that?

 _Yes, there could be._

 _Especially if Lindsay found out about it._

Groaning, Dean fell back on his bed and wondered when things had gotten so difficult.

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Driving Down Daisy Street) 8:05 p.m.**

"Sorry about this," her mother told her for the fifth time in the past five minutes.

Rory frowned.

 _Her mother was acting weird again._

Then again, that might have more to do with the call that her mom had just received from Michel. Kirk's uncle Harold had decided to pop in three weeks early for his typical Thanksgiving visit. And despite knowing better, her mom had somehow gotten roped into letting him a room at the Dragonfly…

According to Sookie, the man was now, apparently, naked, sleepwalking and serenading the horses out in the barn with his guitar.

Needless to say, the family resemblance was _uncanny._

"Not your fault," Rory tried not to laugh, "It's not like you can just leave him there. He might get frostbite in an unfortunate place," Rory grinned, "or a hoof."

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Driving Down Daisy Street) 8:06 p.m.**

Lorelai tried to remain stoic, but even she couldn't help but chuckle. She shouldn't, because that would be exactly the kind of mess which Kirk would typically get himself in – and Kirk and Uncle Harold were pretty much one in the same. So, naturally, the chances of either possibilities actually happening were pretty solid.

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 8:07 p.m.**

Clara sighed as she watched her brother pace his room like a caged animal.

Rory's birthday party was tonight and she knew that her brother felt torn about it. A big part of her wanted to be angry at him, to yell at him and call him a coward. And she probably would have done all those things – if he had been avoiding Rory because it was the _adult_ thing to do.

But Clara knew all too well Dean's reason for avoiding Rory at the moment.

 _Her arm was in a cast because of it._

Sighing, Clara knocked on the door. Startled, Dean turned towards her scowling, "What?" he hissed.

Clara raised an eyebrow at his behavior, "Are you coming?"

In that moment, her brother seemed to visibly deflate, "No," Dean sighed heavily, "How can I? If Lindsay…"

"If your psycho bitch of a wife found out," Clara finished for Dean, "she might do to _Rory_ what she did to _me_."

Dean looked at her, his expression darkening, "How are you?" he asked.

"Fine," the teenager stated all too quickly.

Her brother gave her an incredulous stare.

Biting her lip, annoyed, Clara conceded, but only just, "Well, I can make it up the stairs on my own can't I?" she huffed, "anyways, I wanted to know if there was anything you wanted me to drop off? I'm heading out the party in a couple of minutes."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Dean frowned.

"Again," Clara hissed, "I can make it up the stairs just fine on my _own._ I think I can handle going to Rory's birthday _just fine_ , thank you. Besides, mom's dropping me off there in the car. So it's not like I'll be walking there or anything."

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dragonfly Inn Parking Entrance) 8:08 p.m.**

Rory took a deep breath as her mother parked the car in front of the Dragonfly.

 _This was it._

After this, everyone would know that she was pregnant.

There was simply no getting around that fact.

Though the guests were mostly out of towners, pretty much all of the staff lived in Stars Hollow. And although it was starting to get late, it was still early enough in the evening for the majority of the workers to still be on shift. And so, Rory had little doubt that, by tomorrow morning at the latest, _everyone_ would know.

Nervously, Rory tugged at the hem of her dark blue dress.

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dragonfly Inn) 8:09 p.m.**

Richard Gilmore sat upon the loveseat, a stiff glass of scotch in his hand, his wife sipping her martini beside him. They were both, Richard believed, quite uncomfortable in their present surroundings. This sentiment was undoubtedly exacerbated by the fact that, unlike in the past, they could not turn to each other to ease the awkwardness of finding themselves strangers within a room filled of good friends.

Still, following all that had happened that week, they had, for the first time in months, both agreed to put some considerable effort in showing their granddaughter that they would support her through thick and thin. Following the chiding Lorelai had given them last Monday; Richard had been left feeling not only quite small, but rather like a petulant child brought to order.

Their daughter had been right.

 _They had been throwing a tantrum._

Thinking back upon his actions the past month, Richard readily admitted that he was ashamed of himself – and so was Emily.

He understood now that, rather than helping the situation, they had only succeeded in making it all the more difficult for Rory – and even Lorelai. This untenable situation needed to come to an end. Reconciliations had to be made. Rory needed them too much for them to drop the lead now. The prospect of raising one child alone must have been terribly daunting to Rory, but to learn that she would be raising two? And to do so whilst she was still a student at Yale?

Richard could be grateful that Arthur Hayden had chosen to leave his granddaughter an inheritance. The particulars of that inheritance would not be known to him until Monday, but Richard could breathe easier for it. Even if the inheritance was not substantial, Richard believed that, whatever else, it should be enough to see Rory and the twins cared for until she graduated Yale. He would have offered his granddaughter the money himself, but Richard knew all too well that Rory wouldn't have accepted it. Like her mother, she would have rather worn herself down attending school, raising her children and earning just enough money to see to their needs.

And so, although the relations between the Gilmores and the Haydens had been less than amicable for the past two decades, Richard could be thankful that, at the very least, Arthur Hayden hadn't been a gutless cur like his son and grandson.

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dragonfly Inn Parking Entrance) 8:10 p.m.**

"Hey," her mother took a hold of her hand, "it's going to be fine kid. You don't need to worry so much."

Rory groaned, "I can't help it."

"I know," Lorelai sighed, "that's why you need to get out of the car now. The best way for you to stop worrying about all of this is just to go and get it over with. Just rip it off – like a Band-Aid."

Rory bit her lip and unbuckled her seatbelt. With a half-hearted look of determination, the younger Gilmore girl opened the passenger door and climbed out of the jeep.

Before the jeep was even locked, Sookie rushed out of the Inn and met them half-way to the door. Grabbing a hold of Rory, the woman gave her a big hug; her gaze glancing momentarily towards Rory's expanded stomach. Yet, save for that one small act, Sookie did not acknowledge Rory's pregnancy at all.

Which was quite odd, as Rory had expected the bubbly red head to go off on somewhat of a babbling fit.

To her left, Rory noted that her mother was just as mystified by all of this as she was. Neither, however, had much of a chance to think on the matter. For just as soon as they had taken note Sookie's odd behavior, the red head laid a hold of their arms and proceeded to drag them towards the entrance, "Hi! I'm so glad you guys are here," she squealed, "hurry up and come inside you two. It's freezing out tonight. You wouldn't want to catch a cold."

"But," Rory gasped, surprised at Sookie's speed, "doesn't mom have to deal with Uncle Harold first?"

"Oh," Sookie squealed, her pitch reaching new heights, "she can deal with that later."

"Sookie," Lorelai hissed, seeming put out, "What are you –"

Lorelai, however, never got the chance to finish her sentence. For, having reached the door, Sookie yanked it open with a grand gesture.

" _Surprise!"_ the good people of Stars Hollow yelled on the other side of it, " _Happy Birthday Rory!"_

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lister Residence) 8:11 p.m.**

"How dare he!" Reginald hissed, waving the divorce papers angrily, "Do these Foresters have any sense of morals or respect? Does this loathsome vulture truly believe I will allow him to this to my precious little girl? Does he?"

Reginald snarled, slamming his fist against the table. Not only did Dean Forester intend to divorce his little Lindsay – he wished to see his wife left without any support whatsoever. Under the terms of divorce, the lout had actually petitioned that alimony be waved altogether. In addition, no mention of child support is made. It mattered not to him that the papers had been served before the boy learned of Lindsay's pregnancy – all that mattered to him was the fact that the papers had not been revised since.

 _The utter nerve of the boy!_

The cruelty!

 _The callousness!_

At that very moment, his little Lindsay was sitting in the living room, crying her precious heart out. In vain, his wife attempted to comfort their poor, misused daughter. This, most of all, was Dean Forester's worst transgression. To hurt his daughter in such a way! Why, even if the boy decided to come back crawling on his knees, the boy would not be forgiven this time.

Dean Forester would receive his just due.

Just as his family would.

 _Reginald Lister would see to that._

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dragonfly Inn Porch) 8:12 p.m.**

Stunned at the unexpected turn of events, Rory stared mutely at friends and neighbours for several long moments.

And for several long moments, they stared back, shocked. Their eyes darting back and forth between Rory's face and her pregnant stomach, they froze in unison, uncertain. They looked amongst themselves, trying to see if any of their own had known of her condition and had held out on the gossip. Seeing the fidgeting of the crowd, Rory all but cringed. She knew that, with seconds, she would be inundated with loud exclamations, probing questions and demands to feel her growing baby bump.

Yet, to the surprise of all, a savior came in the most unexpected form, " _Damn it!"_ Uncle Harold swore loudly, running out of the barn as naked as the day he was born, holding his injured buttocks, his guitar swaying thrashing back and forth as he made a break for the forest, "Why do these things always happen to me?" the poor shrieked.

Rory looked on the scene with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

Lorelai, however, gave Sookie an incredulous glare. To which, the red head winced.

 _Well, at least they now knew why Sookie had been so anxious to see them quickly settled in the Inn._

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Lister Residence - Lindsay's Bedroom) 8:19 p.m.**

Daintily, Lindsay dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex in her left hand, sniffling a bit as she did so.

 _Nothing was going the way it was meant to!_

Oh, why did she have to marry such an idiot? Didn't Dean see how absolutely horrible he was being to her? Didn't he understand that she had done _nothing_ wrong? That he had done _everything_ wrong? Or was he so self-absorbed that he simply couldn't see the truth of the matter? Whatever deficiency he was suffering under, it would never excuse all of his recent behavior. Especially not _now,_ as the fool was abandoning her in her time of need and pregnant no less!

As Lindsay's thoughts ran rampant, her fury at the man grew steadily.

How could do fool do this to her?

 _How could he be so callous?_

Oh, how Lindsay wished she had never married the jerk. From the start, Lindsay had always known that the boy hadn't been good enough for her.

Any fool could have seen that Dean Forester had been beneath her notice – that, in marrying the lout, she had deigned to lower herself quite substantially. The jerk ought to have been grateful that she would even have him, under any circumstance. So what if she had been unfaithful – if she had never even bothered to be faithful to begin with? In marrying her, Dean Forester had won the biggest prize he ever would in his miserable life.

How dare he even _think_ of divorcing her?

Outraged, Lindsay vowed, for the hundredth time, that her husband would pay dearly for all of his sins. Eventually, Dean would come to his senses and would come crawling back to her on his knees, begging her to take him back. And although she was a generous and forgiving woman, Lindsay wasn't so sure that she wanted the cretin back – not after all he had done to her.

But she was pregnant.

And the last thing Lindsay wanted was to spend her days looking after his screeching brat for nothing to show for it.

And so, she would give the idiot one last chance. But if he blew this one, that would be it. She would divorce _him_ and take him for all he was worth. It wouldn't be much – but the satisfaction of seeing him squashed beneath her heel would be worth it. Whatever else happened, she refused to allow Dean Forester to divorce her and leave her without any form of compensation.

 _She was pregnant, damn it!_

For that alone, Dean would pay.

If he didn't bend to her, she would see to it that she not only gained full custody of the child, but that Dean would be responsible for all of the financial implications. He would buy her the townhouse of her choice, pay all of her bills, including food, shopping and spa outings – and give her child support and alimony.

That she would get what she wanted was not in doubt.

Lindsay always got her way.

She refused to allow Dean Forester to challenge that fact.

Lindsay would allow him one last chance at redemption. And if he failed, then she would just have to start plucking his wings.

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dragonfly Inn) 8:21 p.m.**

Following such an incongruous start, the rest of the evening actually proceeded quite smoothly for Rory. In the shadow of Uncle Harold's latest misadventure, the shock of Rory's unexpected pregnancy had quickly simmered down. Although Rory was not naïve enough to believe that her condition wasn't being discussed in hushed tones about in the room, for a time it seemed that Uncle Harold was the prevailing subject of conversation. Of particular interest amongst the gathered crowd, was the placing of bets. Everyone seemed rather keen on theorizing what else they could all expect of poor Uncle Harold before his visit came to an end.

Such mundane discussion, however, could never hold the attention of one such as Miss. Patty. And, as expected, when the gossip reached Rory, the woman began asking her questions as soon as she had finished with the niceties. The general questions were, of course, asked. How far along are you? What are you expecting? And so and so forth. The question of the father did, of course, come up as well. However, in the end, Rory was grateful it had. For, after avoiding the question with Miss. Patty, no one else asked about the father afterwards. Rory could only assume that the gossip had warned the crowd off the particular subject after noticing the uncomfortable way she had fidgeted.

Naturally, Rory had been surprised, but pleased to that her grandparents were also at the party. She knew that attending the party had been a trial for them. They had never quite known what to make of the quirky denizens of Stars Hollow, and Rory knew that for them to sit there and attempt small talk with the others must be trying experience for them. But the fact that they had even bothered in the first place, it made Rory feel like not all was loss. That, somehow, with time and care, she could regain that close relationship she had always shared with them.

Maybe not quite yet, but soon.

And that thought left Rory feeling hopeful for the future.

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dragonfly Inn) 8:24 p.m.**

 _It was a good thing that Dean had stayed home._

Not a minute after she had arrived at the Inn, Clara Forester had realised that something monumental had taken place. As she walked through the crowd, searching for Rory, Clara overheard several tidbits of conversation. But the fourteen year old just couldn't make heads or tails of it – hoofs, twins, naked, Rory, horses, Uncle Harold, broken butt?

What in the world was any of it supposed to mean?

Annoyed, Clara tried to ask Babette about what was happening, but the woman was too far into the gossip – and her cocktail – to notice her. The crush of the crowd being too much for Clara, the teenager decided to find somewhere less crowded to catch her breath for a minute. And so, she retreated out into the hall which she thought led to the kitchen. Unfortunately, Clara hadn't been by the Dragonfly all that often and rather than turning right towards the kitchen, she turned left and accidentally wound up in an office.

Clara, however, had been grateful at the turn of events. The outing had turned out to be much more tiring than she had thought it would be, and she felt the need to sit down for a minutes. It wasn't until, sitting behind the desk, Clara spotted the safe of the left side of the room – and it occurred to her that she probably shouldn't be in there.

Unfortunately, the realisation came much too late.

Clara was just about to stand up in order to leave the room when the doorknob suddenly started to turn and, in a panic, the teenager simply reacted.

She slid down to the floor and hid behind the desk.

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dragonfly Inn) 8:29 p.m.**

"So, you and Zack," Rory teased her best friend as they entered her mother's office for some much needed privacy.

"Yes," Lane laughed, "Me and Zack."

"I guess," Rory smirked, "that in the end, you're glad he _processed_ things."

Groaning, Lane gave Rory a reproachful look.

"Okay," Rory laughed, "Fine. I'll stop."

The two smiled at each other for a moment, "So," Lane began, "How are you?"

Sighing, Rory answered, "Pretty good given the circumstances."

"I can't believe that you decided to out yourself on your birthday party?" the drummer shook her head.

"Yeah, well," Rory shrugged, "believe me when I say, it wasn't my intention. I'm just glad that I had already decided that it was time for people to know, otherwise I would be pretty angry at mom right now."

"Oh, come on," Lane snorted, "Like your mother would have ambushed you if she knew you didn't want anyone to know yet."

"Yeah, you're right," Rory laughed, fiddling with some of the office equipment, "I'm just glad it's over with now. By this tomorrow morning, everyone will know."

"Everyone?" her best friend prodded.

"Lane," Rory said warningly.

"I'm just..." Lane sighed, "Have you talked to Dean yet?"

"No, I haven't. And I won't be, not yet," Rory shook her head.

"Rory, you need to talk to him. He needs to know –" Lane was cut off.

"That I'm pregnant with twins and that they're his?" Rory retorted shortly, "What exactly do you want me to do Lane? To rush up to Dean and tell him the news right now? How is he supposed to deal with that? He literally just found out that his wife is pregnant!"

Lane looked at Rory for a long moment, at a loss as to what to say. Just as it seemed she had finally found her voice, the friends were interrupted by the sound of someone knocking at the door. With a wide smile, Lorelai Gilmore opened the door, "Hey," she grinned, "Rory, you're wanted out in the dinning room. The natives are getting restless, and they want to see you open some presents.

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dragonfly Inn) 8:33 p.m.**

Shocked, Clara stared mutely at the floor, hidden behind Lorelai's desk.

* * *

 **Saturday November 6** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Dragonfly Inn) 11:51 p.m.**

Rory hadn't meant to cause a scene, really she hadn't.

The last thing Rory Gilmore wanted was anyone asking questions about Dean – at least, not until she knew where he stood on the subject of their children.

But she'd been caught by surprise.

The present had fallen behind the table. No one had seen it when she had been unwrapping presents earlier and it wasn't until Luke was packing up her presents for her that they had noticed it. By then, pretty much everyone had already left. Only Luke, Sookie and her grandparents had still been around to see it happen.

The present had been covered in deep blue wrapping paper with an intricate silver pattern, and tied with a soft powder blue bow. But, what had really caught Rory's eye was the signature on the card.

 _Happy Birthday Rory_

 _from Dean_

And before Rory had even known it, with a strangled gasp she had dropped the present and fled the room.

* * *

 **Posted December 22nd 2017**


	31. With All My Love

**Author's Note:** I hope you guys like this chapter. I'm pretty sure some of you won't be expecting what comes next. As always, please review.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 30: With All My Love**

* * *

 **Sunday November 7** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 7:42 a.m.**

When Clara went down to breakfast the next morning, she steadfastly avoided meeting her brother's gaze. The entire situation had been uncomfortable to say the least and Clara was well aware that her entire family had noticed how awkwardly she was acting. And so, when her Dean left them to make his way over to the construction, Clara had released a great sigh of relief. Her father had already for work half-an-hour before her brother, so this left Clara and her mother alone at home.

Taking a deep breath, Clara gathered her courage. If there was any time for her to share what she had learned last night, this would be it.

"Mom," Clara began hesitantly, "I have something to tell you."

Frowning, Jane turned towards her daughter. There was something in the girl's voice which made Jane worry, "What is it Clara?"

Clara bit her lip, "It's about Rory…"

* * *

 **Sunday November 7** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 11:04 a.m.**

Jane didn't know how she should feel given the circumstances.

The news Clara had shared with her that morning came as quite a shock. Jane never thought she'd become a grandmother when she was only thirty-nine years old. Then again, once upon a time, she also thought that she would never fall in love. But then Matthew Forester had come into her life and proved her wrong.

Still, becoming a grandmother was an entirely different conundrum.

For one thing, her baby boy was on the cusp of becoming a parent himself. Secondly, Dean's life, as it was, was very complicated at the moment. Rory's pregnancy would certainly make things much more difficult – especially if Lindsay got wind of the circumstances. Yet despite all of this, and despite how utterly unprepared she felt by it all, Jane couldn't help but feel excited by the prospect.

 _Twins!_

Her son would soon have twins!

The thought of all that had to be done – all the baby clothes that needed to be knitted, the accessories that needed to be bought, the work that needed to be done in order to prepare for their arrival – it all overwhelmed Jane. But more than anything else, the worry Jane felt ate away at her. For, like Lorelai, Jane quickly realised that, if the Listers thought nothing of violently attacking a fourteen year old girl, they were hardly likely to curb themselves when faced with a pregnant young woman.

What would happen if Lindsay were to learn that her husband had gotten his ex-girlfriend pregnant? Rory Gilmore had always been a sore spot where Lindsay was concerned – and that was before her marriage had reached its final act. What would she do if she knew? What would her parents?

No, it was clear to Jane that Lindsay Lister needed to be kept as far away from Rory and her grandbabies as possible. Thankfully, Rory was out of town attending Yale most of the time, but Jane knew all too well that did not remove the threat of danger altogether. She knew how close the girl was to her mother, and that often enough she came home for the week-ends. To add to this, thanksgiving break would be coming up soon, and this would undoubtedly allow the Listers an opportunity to do some damage if they really wished to do so.

As much as Jane loathed the idea, her son remaining unaware of Rory's condition, and thus, ensuring he kept his distance from the girl, might be the best thing for all concerned at the moment. It was a bitter truth to acknowledge, but Jane felt she must accept it nonetheless.

Jane only hoped that the Stars Hollow gossip mill hadn't theorized that Dean was the father.

There was, after all, only so much Jane could do to keep her son in the dark.

* * *

 **Sunday November 7** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow (Luke's Diner) 12:21 p.m.**

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Rory startled at the sound of the bell. Tense, she looked towards the door once more and only relaxed when she saw Kirk enter the dinner.

 _This was ridiculous,_ Rory thought to herself, _I'm being ridiculous._

It hadn't even been a day since news had broken out about her pregnancy in Stars Hollow. And yet, with every passing moment, Rory fully expected Dean to walk up to her and to confront her about the situation.

But he didn't.

Which made sense, because Dean had probably not even heard the news yet. And if he hadn't heard the news, then he couldn't very well confront her about the paternity of the twins.

 _It was the logical conclusion._

However, with all that had happened in the past month, Rory couldn't quite ignore the doubt clawing away at her insides.

And so she wondered.

What if Dean _had_ heard the news?

 _And what if he just didn't care?_

* * *

 **Monday November 8** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Wickery Bridge) 1:26 p.m.**

Dean should have known that she would do something like this. But foolishly, he had hoped that Lindsay had done all her venting two weeks ago, when she had confronted him outside of Luke's diner.

But he should have known that wouldn't be the end of it. Lindsay was unable to accept that she could ever be in the wrong, and she didn't take it well when people told her so. Nor would she simply accept a situation – not when she felt she could yell, shriek and guilt people into giving her what she wanted.

 _The lengths she would go to…_

To walk up to the construction site, striding purposefully towards him, a self-righteous fury exuding from her. How confident she acted. How certain she was that her misguided delusions were just and true – it sickened him. What had he ever seen in her? What on earth had ever possessed him to actually marry the spiteful shrew?

Halting his work, Dean stared incredulously at his strutting wife. Even though the blonde did her best to pose a solemn, abused figure, Dean could tell just how satisfied his wife was with the scene she was making of herself. Dean could tell, that as the construction crew fell became quiet, she gloated in the attention.

From his position behind the sawing table, Dean stared at his wife, stoic.

 _He refused to allow her to get the better of him this time around._

Lindsay, for her part, seemed barely just able to conceal the sneer pulling at her lips. It was apparent that the blonde, noting his unrepentant expression, had realised that he had no intention of conceding to her demands at present. Still, Lindsay was as stubborn as she was selfish, and the blonde pressed on, believing she could still win the day.

"I'm giving you one last chance Dean," Lindsay sniffled theatrically, fat crocodile tears clinging to her eyes, "you have been _positively awful_ to me these past months. _And that is to say nothing of what your family has been attempting to do to mine."_

The blonde shook her head, chasing away an inexistent sob, "But I am a forgiving girl," Lindsay whispered, "And I am willing to put all of your mistakes aside for the sake of _our child,"_ she cried, "I won't ever forgive your family. I think that, given what they have done, you can understand why that would be _beyond_ even _my forgiving nature_. And I won't have those people anywhere near our baby. I don't want to allow them the chance to even spew their hateful poison in his or her ears."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Lindsay wiped away a few fallen tears, "But I will take you back, for the sake of our baby. _But you will have to change._ Our baby needs you to change! You can't act like you did before. Our child needs you to be better. Which is why, although I am willing to take you back, I refuse to act like all of this ugliness didn't happen. I'm angry Dean," she hissed, "and you will be sleeping out on the couch for the few weeks at least. And I expect you to do _everything_ you can to prove to me that you will do whatever is necessary for the good of this baby. And in exchange, I promise to find it in my heart to forgive you, and love you despite all of your faults."

 _It was a beautiful speech._

And if any part of it hadn't been an utter load of bullshit, Dean might have even felt touched. But as it was, Dean knew all too well what a lying, two faced bitch he had married. And nothing, not even his own child (if the child Lindsay was carrying had even been his), would have convinced his to return to the harridan.

"Is that all?" Dean snorted, "because I've got work to do."

Lindsay spluttered, " _Is that all?"_ she hissed, " _Dean Forester,_ I came all the way down here, and offered you a second chance, all for the sake of our child. And all you can do is ask me if that was all?"

Dean rolled his eyes at her theatrics. It seemed that, his wife was bent on continuing to play the role of the innocent damsel, victimised by her cold hearted husband. Looking around, he noticed that quite of few of the men was disgruntled with Lindsay's spectacle. Some were even openly sneering at the blonde.

Lindsay, however, didn't seem to notice any of this, " _Oh, I can't believe you_!" she shrieked, forgetting herself. In that moment, Lindsay's carefully composed expression faltered, revealing the glowering harpy beneath. Eyes ablaze with fury, she growled, "I thought that, just maybe, for the good of our baby, you could be convinced to stop acting like a selfish asshole. _But you can't, can you?"_

Annoyed, and unwilling to go along with her little display, Dean asked, "I think we both know that's not true. Now, _what do you want Lindsay_?"

Displeased, Lindsay crossed her arms defensively, "I want my husband to put on his big boy pants and deal with the consequences of his actions. I can't believe how immature you have been lately. I mean what kind of man has a fight with his wife and then goes running to mommy and daddy. You didn't even have the courage to come home the next morning and apologise like any real man would."

Lindsay scowled, "I thought that learning you were about to become a father would knock some sense in you. But it didn't, did it? You are still as incapable of accepting responsibility for your actions as you ever were. _You,_ Dean Forester, _are not a man._ You're nothing more than a petulant boy. You proved that much when you just stood idly by as your family stole from me – as they attacked me and then had my father and I arrested on fraudulent charges!"

Snarling, the blonde attempted to shove Dean. Her progress, however, was impeded by the sawing table which stood between them. In the end, Lindsay was unable to do nothing more than to claw ineffectually at his jacket, "And after all of that, _you serve me with divorce papers!_ Papers that," she shrieked, "if I were stupid enough to sign, _would leave me penniless and homeless with a baby coming along the way."_

Enraged, the blonde grasped for something, anything to throw at him, "How could you ever do that?" she cried, grabbing a hold of a forgotten screw driver, " _What is wrong with you?_ "

Dean, thankfully, managed to duck just in time and the screwdriver hurled harmlessly over his head.

Furious that her weapon had missed its mark, Lindsay angrily searched for something else to throw, " _What is wrong with your family? Have you no sense of what is right and what is wrong?_ _How –"_

Her self-righteous spiel came to an abrupt end, however, as Dean's fellow workers intervened on his behalf. Worried that the blonde would attempt to throw a saw at Dean's head, two men forced her back from the sawing table – and from Dean. She snarled angrily at them, but although they did not physically restrain her, they refused to allow her to pass. In this manner, Lindsay was slowly herded away.

Grim faced and his patience at an end, Dean declared, "I think it's time for you to leave now Lindsay."

Incensed, the blonde attempted to break through once more, but failed. Unable to vent her rage by attacking her husband, Lindsay shrieked shrilly, "You self centered bastard! How could you treat me this way? I'm your wife you idiot. That bitch Rory might have put up with your melodramatic shit, but I deserve to be treated better than that little bastard!"

At this, several of the men hissed angrily. Though none had a personal connection to Rory, many had known her since she was a child. She was the girl who volunteered for town events, the one who helped tutor some of their children in their younger years, and none were appreciative of Lindsay's slur.

Of course, as with everything else, the blonde remained utterly unaware of the fact that she incited outrage amongst the men.

" _Don't you dare call her that,"_ Dean hissed, his reserve failing, " _you psychotic bitch!"_

"You see!" Lindsay shrilled, " _Do you all see how he treats me_!"

Waving an accusing finger towards Dean, Lindsay was too caught up in her righteous fury to realise that none of the men objected to her husband's language, nor did they feel sympathetic to her plight, "One can only wonder how the man could ever hope to be a good father to my children with such abusive behavior."

"Maybe," Dean snarled, "I don't want to be a father to _your_ children Lindsay."

Lindsay gasped in outrage, "I didn't get pregnant on my own Dean Forester!"

"I know," he looked at her, disgusted, "If you recall, that's part of the problem."

The blonde spluttered and gaped, scandalized that he would refer to her infidelity in such a public forum. The gall of her husband. How dare the man display such a disgusting lack of discretion and decorum?

"You'll regret this Dean Forester," Lindsay screeched at her husband even as she was herded back towards her car by his fellow coworkers.

Scowling, Dean rebutted, "I've been regretting it since the day I got down on one knee."

* * *

 **Monday November 8** **th** **2004,** **Hartford (Mr. Phillip's Office) 3:46 p.m.**

"I'm sorry Mr. Phillips," Rory looked at the executor in utter disbelief, "but I think I misheard you. Could you please repeat that?"

Henry Phillips offered her a kind smile before repeating himself, "Shortly prior to his death, your great-grandfather, Arthur Hayden, saw fit to rewrite his will. Now, prior to his death, Mr. Hayden's fortune neared three billion. This, of course, does not take into account the worth of his properties or any of his ongoing investments."

"Properties?" Rory cut in, gasping for breath.

"Yes," Mr. Phillips smiled indulgently, "Properties. Of course, there are a number of financial buildings, as well as a healthy number of residential buildings – apartments, condos and such. But, I doubt these are of much interest to you all at the moment," the man chuckled good-naturedly, "No, of all his properties, your great-grandfather only kept twenty-six for his personal use."

"Twenty-six?" Rory chocked.

Mr. Philips nodded, "Yes. Of course, as you might imagine, these properties are dispersed throughout the globe. An estate in Yorkshire, England, as well as one in Scotland. A manor in France, Ireland, New York and Québec. Houses in Denmark, California, Virginia and Vancouver, and etc.," he laughed, "Well, you get the picture."

With wide eyes, Rory looked to her left to see her mother gaping at Mr. Phillips. Her grandparents, seated to her right, weren't doing all that much better. Although the elder Gilmores had been aware that Arthur Hayden had been a billionaire, they had yet to recover from the news which Mr. Phillips had just recently shared with them.

"Now," the smiled widely, "as I have already stated, although your great-grandfather saw to it that all of his immediate family was well taken care of, he decided to will _you_ the majority of his fortune. This, in addition to all of his properties, his bonds and his investments."

Rory swallowed loudly at this reminder, "But I've never even met him."

"Yes, well," the executor looked at her sympathetically, "as I understand it, in the end, he simply didn't feel that his son or his grandson deserved to inherit his fortune. And so, he decided to leave everything to you. Of course, I was never privy to all of the details. But I do know that it was his final wish to see you properly cared for," Mr. Phillips smiled, "and I imagine the letter he wrote you shall be much more forthcoming than I could ever hope to be."

"Letter?" Rory echoed, still very much in shock.

"Yes," he nodded his head, "letter. Arthur wrote it just prior to his death. He also left you a letter Miss. Gilmore," Mr. Phillips smiled at Lorelai.

Frowning, her mother asked, "Me?"

"Yes," the executor confirmed, "I was to give it to you before signing your inheritance over to you."

"My inheritance?" Lorelai asked, incredulously.

"Yes, in his will, Arthur Hayden left you a fortune of one hundred and fifty million," Mr. Phillips shuffled with his papers, "Ah!" he exclaimed, "here they are."

Rory stared at the man, bewildered as he handed a fine cream colored envelope to her and her mother, "But," Rory interjected, "What about…"

"Yes?" the executor encouraged her.

Rory tried to clear the cobwebs of her mind just long enough to make sense of everything, "What about, Gigi, Mr. and Mrs. Hayden and," she paused, biting her lip, " _Christopher?"_

"Ah," he smiled indulgently, "Yes, well, they were all willed a portion of Mr. Hayden's fortune. But as I have already stated, the bulk of it will go to you, Rory."

"How?" Richard began, mulling over his words, " _Exactly_ how much has Rory inherited?"

"Well," Mr. Phillips looked through his papers, "With all other bequest subtracted from the sum, including your daughter's," the man scratched his head thoughtfully, "your granddaughter will inherit a fortune of roughly 2.4 billion, not including the properties, bonds or investments."

Richard Gilmore paled at the size of the inheritance.

Rory, for her part, had difficulty breathing.

"Of course," Mr. Phillips continued, "Rory the bulk of her inheritance has been placed into a trust, to be guarded and managed for her until her twenty-fifth birthday. You, Mr. Gilmore, and your daughter Lorelai have been named trustees. It will be your duty to see to it that the estate is managed. In the meantime, Rory shall have access not only to the interest accrued by her fortune, but will also have a legacy of five hundred million to live off of in the interim."

"Now," Mr. Phillips smiled, "shall we sign the documents?"

* * *

 _Dear Lorelai,_

 _I can but imagine how you must feel. How shocked you must be to learn that I have bequeathed you a legacy, and for that you must allow me to apologise. As the mother of my first great-granddaughter, you should not have to be shocked to see that you were included in my will. However, I am all too aware of just how much my son and grandson has failed you. For this, I can only but beg your forgiveness._

 _But, whatever else, I wish for you to know just how proud I am of the girl that you have raised. We might not have ever met, and my son might have done all that he feasibly could to discourage my curiosity, but you should know that I have kept a close eye on Rory, ever since I first year at elementary school._

 _With or without the support of Straub and Christopher, I truly believe that you could not have done a finer job of it where Rory Gilmore is concerned._

 _I wish you all the best,_

 _Arthur Mathias Hayden._

* * *

 _Dearest Rory,_

 _I wish for you to know that, though we may have never met, I have loved you as dearly as any great-grandfather can. In my finals days, you have been my brightest light. You, my dear, are the one of whom I am most proud of. Whatever else follows in your life, do not ever allow anyone, whether it be Straub, Christopher or some bitter malcontent to convince you that you are anything else than what you are. I know that whatever may come your way; you will overcome any obstacle and emerge so much the stronger for it._

 _Knowing your temperament, I do not doubt that you have considered sharing your legacy with my family. Or worse still, perhaps you have considered denying it altogether. But here, I must beg you my dear, do not do so. My son and grandson have been satisfactorily cared for. And, although I have some doubt as to the girl's paternity, Georgia has been well settled as well._

 _Only you, dear Rory, remain. And unlike the others, you have not had the benefit of the Hayden name and fortune to see you through the hard times. My son denied you as much. Please know that I will always be deeply ashamed of his actions in your respect. Though you may be a Gilmore by name, you, my dear girl, are as much a Hayden as my son and grandson. And although Straub and Christopher might have denied you your proper place within my family, know that you are the one I have chosen to carry on the Hayden legacy._

 _And so my dear, I beg you, do not deny an old man's dying wish. Allow me to do for you what no Hayden has done, and to see you properly cared for, as you ought to have been from the start. Accept the legacy I have bequeathed you, and accept it intact. Allow the others to make their own way. It is a lesson, I believe, they dearly need to be taught._

 _To finish, please know that I wish you and your child all of the best in the world. I hope that, soon, we might meet. And I greatly look forward to making the acquaintance of the newest member of our family. But, until such a time, please take the best of care of yourself my dear._

 _With all my love,_

 _Arthur Mathias Hayden._

* * *

 **Posted December 22nd 2017**


	32. The Hounds of War

**Author's Note:** Hi everyone, I'm glad you guys are enjoying the new chapters. Remember, I'll be posting two chapters today and tomorrow. I hope you are all enjoying the Holidays. Enjoy!

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 31: The Hounds of War**

* * *

 **Tuesday November 9** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Lister Residence) 9:23 a.m.**

Lindsay liked to consider herself a woman of worldly qualities.

She was beautiful, intelligent and poised. Everything she did, she did gracefully. Her etiquette was impeccable, as was her breeding. Lindsay was, in her own humble opinion, an elegant swan, surrounded by ugly, squawking ducks. Though Lindsay had been much too young to remember it, the blonde had ever been aware of the fact that her family had once belonged to the highest circles of society. Lindsay had never learned exactly why it was that they had been banished to live amongst the country savages. But from some creative eavesdropping she had done as a child, Lindsay knew that their arrival in Stars Hollow was the result of some terrible misunderstanding. What that misunderstanding comprised of, the blonde had never learned. But still, despite these unfortunate circumstances, Lindsay had always keenly felt the weight of her own importance.

And so, it had always disgusted her that, in the eyes of such an unsophisticated society, she had always been _second to a bastard_.

With everything that she was, with her sweetness of temper and her innocence, Lindsay had always known that she ought to have been considered Stars Hollow's crowning jewel. Yet, for some reason which Lindsay could never gleam, Rory Gilmore had always been the one everyone preferred.

As ridiculous as it may sound, that hideous little hunchback had always been the town favorite – the most beloved.

For _years,_ she had been forced to play second fiddle to the daughter of a _whore._

Lindsay had felt all of the unjustness of her situation quite keenly. And, as a result, the blonde had nursed a growing hatred for Rory Gilmore. Publically, she had been sweet to the girl – even going so far as to buy her some tacky little souvenir when they were twelve. But privately, Lindsay Lister had searched in vain for a means, any means at all, to see the girl humiliated and ridiculed. But nothing had ever panned out quite in the way she had hoped.

Nothing, that was, until Dean Forester.

When Lindsay had heard that the couple had broken up due to that Mariano boy, she had seen the perfect opportunity to exact a little well deserved revenge. And so, Lindsay had set about attracting the boy's attention in a manner that was as insidious as it was calculating. And, just as she had hoped, the boy had been eager to please her.

She had loved those first few weeks, when she had paraded her relationship with Dean around town. The shock which her neighbours had displayed, though somewhat irksome to the blonde, had also fed her vanity. The good people of Stars Hollow _just_ couldn't believe that Dean Forester had gotten over the little bastard so quickly. _He must still be in love with her,_ they had all said, _he must only be dating Lindsay as a rebound._ But then Dean had proposed to her – and her neighbours had had no choice but to acknowledge that, between she and Rory, Lindsay had been the _preferred_ choice.

Of course, when Lindsay had first set out to win Dean over, she had never planned on letting things go so far. The blonde had only wanted to date him long enough to make the Gilmore bitch jealous, to rub her superiority in the brunette's face. But, after no more than six months of dating, Dean had proposed – and it all had been just too good.

 _For once, Lindsay Lister had gotten one over on Rory Gilmore._

It had felt amazing.

But now, after a year of marriage, Dean wasn't playing nice anymore. He wasn't fawning over her or giving in to her ever demand anymore. No, now the idiot challenged her at every turn. And after all that he had put her through, the selfish oaf wanted a divorce.

And, after this latest indignity, so did Lindsay.

She refused to put up with his theatrics anymore. Lindsay Lister wanted out of her marriage – and she wanted the Forester to pay for all that they had done to her and her family. The stealing, the slander, the false arrests, it was all too much for Lindsay to bare anymore. She might have been willing to put everything aside as long as Dean gave into her demands. But he hadn't, and now she would see to it that her husband paid just as dearly as his family would for their sins.

Lindsay just couldn't wait for the proceeding to begin. She would take Dean for all he was worth and see his wretched family behind bars.

* * *

 **Wednesday November 10** **th** **2004,** **Hartford (Gilmore Mansion) 10:13 a.m.**

Emily Gilmore was going to fire the new maid.

Oh, in her time, Emily had known many an incompetent maid. But this one, Roberta, certainly outdid them all. The little fool had actually escorted a guest into the sitting room. And then, the chit had actually forgotten to inform her of it! Roberta hadn't even bothered to ask for the guest's name, and so Emily had absolutely no idea of who to expect. Added to the fact that the maid had waited a full ten minutes to inform her of the arrival of her unexpected guest, and Emily's hackles were firmly raised.

 _Of all the incompetent things to do…_

Emily could only hope that it wasn't one of the girls from the D.A.R. She would never live it down if the incident sparked rumors that she was an incompetent hostess.

Arriving in the sitting room, however, Emily was stunned to find it devoid of any guest whatsoever. Frowning, she looked about the room with a critical eye, but found nothing amiss. Wondering if Roberta was even more incompetent than she had believed, Emily made her way to the main hall. She was just about to turn towards the kitchen and give the little idiot a piece of her mind when she noticed that the door to Richard's study had been left ajar.

But Richard hadn't stepped a foot into that study – not since he had moved into the pool house…

 _So why was the door a jar?_

A dreadful suspicion entering her mind, Emily made her way towards Richard's office, walking as quietly as she could. On opening the door, Emily Gilmore was shocked at what she found. There, standing behind her husband's desk and riffling through his papers was Francine Hayden.

"What," Emily hissed, her amazement giving way to outrage, "Do you believe you are doing Francine?"

Startled, the thief dropped several documents to the floor, gazing up at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, "Emily!" Francine exclaimed, "What a surprise?"

"A surprise?" Mrs. Gilmore asked sarcastically, "I dare say Francine, that as you are the one in _my home, riffling_ through _my husband's_ papers, _I am the one that ought to be surprised."_

"Yes," Francine laughed nervously, "Well, how is dear Richard? And yourself?" the red head asked, attempting to distract Emily.

"What, exactly, is it that you want Francine?" Emily Gilmore snarled.

"What I want?" Francine smiled widely, "Why, Emily, I just wanted to stop by for a little visit. Is it so extraordinary that I would wish to catch up with an old friend? Especially, given that we happen to share a granddaughter."

Emily looked at the documents scattered about Richard's desk, indignant. Her eyes narrowing, she glared at Francine, "I hate to disappoint you, _dear,"_ she hissed venomously, "But if you were trying to get your filthy, thieving little hands on the documents concerning Rory's inheritance, _they are not here."_

Francine huffed and puffed, preparing to play the indignant, but one steely glare from Emily convinced her to reconsider her options. Finally, Francine seemed to realise that she would not be able to fool her old friend, and settled on airing her grievances instead, " _Rory's inheritance?"_ the woman snarled, "It _isn't_ her inheritance! You know that as well as I do."

"I am afraid that you are sorely mistaken," Emily sneered, "seeing as all the legal documents _I_ have seen indicate that Arthur Hayden left the majority of his fortune to _my granddaughter."_

"It's my inheritance!" Francine answered petulantly, "My money, my property, mine!"

Smiling widely, her teeth gleaming dangerously in the light, Emily drove in the knife, "It really isn't."

"But it has to be," Francine shrieked, "I did not put up with Straub Hayden for over forty years to be left penniless."

Emily's laugh was hollow, "I'm sorry Francine, but the papers have already been signed. Rory accepted _her_ inheritance, just as Arthur wished her to, and there is absolutely _nothing_ you can do about it. _Now,_ I suggest you _leave before I call the police."_

" _The police?"_ Francine laughed, "Oh, Emily, do be reasonable. You could not have possibly expected me to just stand idly by while that – that," in her rage, she stumbled over the word, " _bastard_ stole everything which rightfully belonged to _me_ and _my son."_

Shaking in indignant fury, Emily wanted nothing more than to slap that smug expression off her old friend's face. However, she absolutely refused to allow the woman any ground to stand on to file a complaint against her. And so, calling upon all her reserve, Emily marched up to the desk and picked up the phone.

Francine stared in mute amazement as Emily Gilmore followed through on her threat to call the authorities.

* * *

 **Wednesday November 10** **th** **2004,** **Hartford (Gilmore Mansion) 10:26 a.m.**

Francine Hayden seethed as she quickly made her way towards her BMW.

 _Emily had actually called the police and reported her for attempted theft._

Luckily, the wretched woman had barely said the words before Francine regained her senses and left. She refused to be arrested on such ridiculous charges. The red head decided that she would make her way towards her favorite spa resort. She was quite certain that, with a healthy tip, she could convince her masseuse to lie and tell the police that she had been there all morning.

It irritated Francine that she had to deal with such inconsequential things when her inheritance had been stolen away. But she very much doubted that Emily Gilmore would drop the matter, and thus she would need to protect herself.

Francine would simply have to think of another way to regain what was rightfully hers later.

* * *

 **Wednesday November 10** **th** **2004,** **Hartford (Winters & Schuster Law Firm) 12:49 p.m.**

"She threw a screw driver at you?" Miss. Winters asked her client incredulously.

"It missed," Dean Forester clarified, "I ducked. But, yeah, she threw a screw driver at me."

Margaret shook her head in disbelief. Although she had taken her client at his word when he told her that his wife had tendency to throw things at him, she had a hard time grasping how it was possible that Lindsay believed that she could simply get away with some of the things she did. True, abusive spouses often fell through the cracks of the legal system – but they were typically smart enough to restrict their violent tendencies to the privacy of their own home. Mrs. Lister-Forester attempted to physically harm her husband in _public_ and in full view of _dozens of witnesses._

"I see," Margaret cleared her throat, "I will need you to write me up a list of the people who witnessed the altercation and give me their contact information. I would like to gather their statements for court."

"What about Lindsay?" Mrs. Forester asked, "She broke the restraining order and attacked my son. Will she be arrested now?"

Margaret sighed, "Unfortunately, as this would be your daughter-in-law's first infraction, she will most likely get nothing more than a slap on the wrist, despite the fact that she attempted to harm Dean."

"What?" Jane Forester exclaimed, incensed.

"I know," Miss. Winters shook her head, disappointed, "I'm afraid I have no control over that. However, if Lindsay were to break the restraining order a second time, _than_ charges could feasibly be filed."

Dean groaned in frustration at the news. Mrs. Forester, for her part, appeared defeated by the news.

"But," Margaret interjected, hoping to lift her client's spirits, "I have high hopes that the divorce proceedings will go our way. The witness statements from Monday's incident will go a long way in seeing that the judge rules in your favor," she smiled at them encouragingly, "Now, did anything else happen?"

"Not really," Dean sighed, "the guys stopped her before she could try anything else. She hissed and spewed like she always does, but the guys kept her from me and she left."

"Good," Margaret nodded, satisfied, "now, don't forget to write up the list I asked for. You can give it to me when we meet Friday morning for the mediation meeting."

Jane snorted, "I don't understand why there even is a mediation meeting. Dean will be divorcing that hateful shrew no matter what, and I won't have him concede on the terms."

"Yes, well," Margaret sighed, "Brent Miller, the Lister's lawyer, wished for a mediation meeting. I have no doubt that it's all part of his strategy."

"His strategy?" Dean asked, confused.

Miss. Winters nodded her head, "He undoubtedly wants the judge to know that, while you refused to budge from your demands, Lindsay was willing to compromise with you. It won't work of course," Margaret snorted, "I've never met your wife, but I don't doubt that her terms will be anything but reasonable."

Sighing, Dean nodded and stood from his seat. Gathering his coat to leave, he frowned as he noticed his mother remained seated, "Are you coming, mom?"

"No dear," Jane smiled at him, "there is something I wish to discuss with Miss. Winters."

Frowning, he asked, "Do you want me to wait for you."

Mrs. Forester shook her head, "No, you just go right ahead. I know you don't want to be late for your three o'clock shift at Doose's. I'll be fine on my own. We did, after all, come in separate cars," she laughed, "Besides; I have a bit of shopping to do before I go back home."

"Okay," Dean nodded hesitantly. And after bidding his farewells to Miss. Winters, Dean exited the office.

Margaret frowned as Jane visibly relaxed at her son's departure, "You wanted to speak to me?" she inquired, feeling that Mrs. Forester was just about to make her job difficult.

"Yes," Jane began, "It's about Rory – my son's ex-girlfriend. I am afraid that I have some news which might impact Dean's divorce settlement."

* * *

 **Thursday November 11** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Stars Hollow High) 3:44 p.m.**

Clara Forester rushed through the crowded halls of Stars Hollow High, hoping to make a quick escape. After having spent three weeks on forced bedrest, the teenager was more than a tad behind her assignments. Her teachers, thankfully, had been understanding of her situation and had come up with ways for her to make up what she had missed.

Thus, Clara had dozens of assignments and papers to complete, and she was determined to get them all over and done with as quickly as she could. She absolutely refused to spend Thanksgiving break slaving away writing essays. The one bright light in all of this was the creative assignment she had to make, which would be due on the twenty-second. Clara had already decided that she would do a video project for that one, and was looking forward to it.

"Clara! Hey Clara," Minnie, her best friend, cried out several steps behind her, "Hey, wait up, will you?"

Pausing, Clara waited until a perky brunette with green eyes reached her, "Sorry Minnie," she told the brunette, "But I have a _ton_ of assignments to get through, and I really just want to get them over and done with."

"I know silly," Minnie laughed, "I thought I could help you with some of them. You know, give you my notes and explain if you have any questions."

"Really?" Clara exclaimed, relieved, "Thanks Minnie, that would be a lot of help."

"Your welcome," she giggled, "Now come on you troublemaker, we've got a lot of work to go through."

"Yeah," Clara smiled as they made their way out to the school.

Their progress, however, was stalled. For out in the courtyard, a crowd of students had gathered. A Hartford Police patrol car was parked out in the street out front, and two officers were speaking with the principal. Principal Higgins, a jolly man of rotund girth scratched his balding scalp nervously. He seemed to be arguing with the police officers. A sight which was rather incongruous, as the man was known for his jolly disposition. Rarely had anyone ever heard a cross word from Mr. Higgins, not even the troubled students.

As he argued with them, and attempted to keep them from making their way further onto school grounds, Mr. Higgins' looked around, valiantly searching for someone to help him. His search, however, faltered as he noticed Clara standing several paces away. In an instant, the man blanched and his eyes widened to comical proportions.

The officers, noticing Mr. Higgins' reaction, followed his gaze. With grim features, they turned away from the principal and advanced towards Clara.

Her stomach dropping, Clara watched as the officers stopped in front of her.

The men shuffled awkwardly in front of her for a moment before the officer to the left, Officer Trent if his name tag was to be believed, cleared his throat and asked, "Clara Forester?"

"Yes," the teenager squeaked out, "that's me."

"Truly," Principal Higgins cried out, "I must object!"

Officer Trent, however, ignored the man. Staring determinedly at the ground, the officer said to Clara, "You are under arrest for theft and attempted assault."

Clara stood there, in stunned horror as Officer Trent proceeded to read the Miranda Rights. Beside her, Minnie looked on the scene with wide eyes. But, when Officer Trent pulled out his handcuffs, loyal Minnie found it in herself to object, "Are you insane," she hissed at the man, "Clara's left wrist is in a cast! Do you honestly think cuffing her is a good idea? Are you even a real cop? You certainly don't look it, coming to a _High School_ and arresting an _injured_ _fourteen year old_ instead of hardened criminals!"

Red faced, Officer Trent looked up at Clara and noticed her cast. He hadn't wanted to arrest a fourteen year old. There were rumors around the station about the validity of the charges. But charges had been filed and his chief had ordered him to arrest the girl – no matter how off-putting the situation was. And so, Officer Trent, uncomfortable and ashamed, had avoided meeting the girl's gaze. Hell, he'd even avoided looking at her. So much so that he'd never even noticed the cast on her arm. Looking towards his partner, Officer Colson, Trent hoped that his senior officer would know how to deal with the situation professionally. But Colson only looked as disgusted with the situation as he was. And so, with a grimace on his face, Officer Trent gently removed Clara's backpack from her and handed it to a Colson. Gently, he lead the shaken girl to their patrol vehicle.

"You just wait a minute," Principal Higgins hissed as he followed the trio, "If you think I will allow you to remove that child from my school and drag her all the way to Hartford, without an escort or to her parent's knowledge, then you are sorely mistaken," he waved his arms indignantly, "Minnie, see to it that Mr. and Mrs. Forester are made aware of the situation. I shall be going to Hartford with Clara."

Mr. Higgins demand, however, was of little use. For Minnie, seeing the officer would not desist, had already pulled her cellphone out and was dialing Mrs. Forester's number.

* * *

 **Thursday November 11** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Jane's Blooms – Gardening and Flower Shop) 3:51 p.m.**

Jane shook her head, incredulous that the Listers had actually gone so far as to sue her for defamation of character. She felt the urge to simply throw the papers she had been served into the trash bin. But before she could make up her mind either way, her cellphone rang.

* * *

 **Thursday November 11** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Post Office) 3:54 p.m.**

Matthew Forester had just finished putting together and order for a client when the Hartford police officers walked up to his station. His co-workers and several clients watched, aghast as he was arrested on charges of assault, battery and theft. A few hissed at the officers to release him, stating that the charges were fraudulent. The officers, however, could do nothing for it.

And so, amidst a number of outraged cries, Matthew Forester was escorted from his place of work.

* * *

 **Thursday November 11** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Doose's Olde Soda Shop) 4:01 p.m.**

Taylor Doose stared down at the papers before him, outraged. The Listers were suing the good town of Stars Hollow on charges of wrongful arrest, incompetence and failure to exact civil duties.

* * *

 **Thursday November 11** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Lister Residence) 4:05 p.m.**

In their own little corner of the world, the Listers were celebrating. Lindsay, careless of the fact that she was pregnant, savored her second glass of champagne in as many minutes. For the first time in weeks, the blonde felt truly satisfied. Today, the Foresters will have reaped what they sowed. And Lindsay couldn't be any happier about. Surely, this would teach the miscreants not to flout justice.

* * *

 **Posted December 23rd 2017**


	33. Introducing the Honorable Judge Collins

**Author's Note:** As promised, here is the second chapter of the day. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I know some of you have been anxiously awaiting it. As always, please review when you are finished. Your comments make my day.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 32: Introducing the Honorable Judge Collins**

* * *

 **Friday November 12** **th** **2004,** **Hartford (Winters & Schuster Law Firm) 1:17 p.m.**

Dean tried his best to remain impassive.

The feat, however, seemed neigh on impossible. He reminded himself, again and again, that he needed to keep a level head. That, if he lost his temper during the meeting, even if it was only mediation, it would reflect badly on him. It might even put things in Lindsay's favor, despite all of the circumstances. Still, it was a very hard thing to do. To just sit there, playing aloof as the Listers sat across from him, _gloating_.

 _They had had his fourteen year old sister arrested on false charges of theft and assault._

Of course, given her age, his lawyer had seen to it that Clara had been quickly released. She, thankfully, had not had to spend the night in jail. His father, however, had not been so lucky. Even now, the man remained behind bars and would not be released until a judge decided whether or not he needed to post bail first. That would not happen until Monday – and so his father would spend the next three nights in jail – just as he had spent last night.

As if that had not been enough of a sucker punch in and of itself, last night Dean received another crushing blow. Upon returning from the Hartford Police Station, the Forester siblings had found Minnie Michaelson waiting out on their front porch with her backpack. She'd sat there in the cold for nearly three hours, hoping for news. After offering her a warm cup of cocoa, it was quickly decided between the girls that Minnie would sleep over that night.

Dean had walked up to Clara's room, intending to ask them what kind of takeout they wanted for supper, when he had heard the news.

 _Rory Gilmore was pregnant – and news on the street indicated that the father was Rory's new boyfriend – a guy named Marty who went to Yale._

In that single moment, Dean's entire world had crumbled around him.

"So," Brent Miller sighed, "You disagree."

"I do," Miss. Winters replied coldly, "Your terms are utterly ridiculous. To demand that my client provides alimony for Mrs. Lister-Forester at seventy percent for the next twenty years is outrageous. You know as well as I do that, given the length of their marriage, the most your client would be allowed to is forty percent of Mr. Forester's earnings. And that, for no more than six months."

"My client is pregnant," Miller barked.

"That may be," Miss. Winters smiled congenially, "but that still doesn't entitle her to seventy percent of my clients earnings for twenty years."

"And I suppose you wish to convince me that Mrs. Lister-Forester is not entitled to child support as well?" Brent Miller sneered.

"Not at all," his lawyer simpered, "a father must see to his obligations, no matter the circumstances. I have no doubt that, eventually, your client will see fit to sue the father of her child for money. However, as my client previously stated, his wife had been unfaithful to him. As such, the paternity of the child is very much in doubt."

At this, the Listers hissed. Reginald Lister, especially, appeared quite ready to reach over the table and physically harm both him and his lawyer. But, as two guards stood nearby, the man restrained himself. Instead, Mr. Lister settled on glaring at them murderously.

Mr. Miller laughed, "So, that's your angle."

"Angle?" Miss. Winters chuckled, "I'm sorry, but for there to be an _angle_ , there needs to be some form of misrepresentation. Unless, of course, you wish to argue that a man, who has been cheated on by his wife, is responsible for the support of her child despite having no biological ties to the child in question."

Brent sneered, "There is no proof whatsoever that my client committed adultery – only your client's word."

"So you say," Miss. Winters smirked.

"So we are agreed," Judge Fairchild cut in, hoping to bring the mediation at end before the situation devolved further, "to court you must go."

* * *

 **Saturday November 13** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Leenie's Pharmacy) 9:34 a.m.**

Lindsay could hardly contain her glee.

The baby had been giving her a hard time that week, and she had gone to the pharmacy to pick up some antacid when the blonde overheard two old biddies discussing the scandal.

 _Rory Gilmore was pregnant!_

Lindsay had felt like a child on Christmas morning when she had heard.

 _Finally, Saintly Rory fell off her pristine pedestal._

Despite the little bastard's popularity, Lindsay very much doubted Rory Gilmore would ever be able to live it down. Her perfect image would forever be tarnished – and, _finally,_ the people of Stars Hollow would see her for the unremarkable little chit she was.

And, as a bonus, Dean would be positively _crushed_ by the news.

Lindsay all but skipped down the aisle.

* * *

 **Monday November 15** **th** **2004,** **Hartford Court House (Court Room 6) 10:29 a.m.**

Jane Forester was worried.

For the past couple of days, her son had been unusually glum. At first, Jane had attributed Dean's abruptness to the Listers latest stunt. With her husband in jail, Jane knew that her children had loss some of their natural exuberance. It was a hard thing, to be facing so many difficulties with the holidays coming up. But, she had hoped that, with a little bit of time, everything would be bright and cheery once again.

Matthew had just been released on his own recognisance. And, unlike Mr. Lister and Lindsay, her husband hadn't needed to post bail. That, in and of itself, ought to be considered quite the victory in Jane's opinion.

But Dean was still sullen. Oh, the boy did his best, he really did. He smiled and waited anxiously for his father to be processed, but Jane could tell. There was something weighing heavily on his mind.

* * *

 **Wednesday November 17** **th** **2004,** **Yale (News Room) 2:46 p.m.**

"So," Paris began, "your grandparents want to have dinner Friday?"

"Unfortunately," Rory grimaced, her distress clear for all to see.

"I don't understand," Paris frowned, "why are you so angsty about it? I thought things were better now."

"They are," she bit her lip, "or at least I think they are. I mean, grandma did show up for my appointment with the OB."

"She did," Paris nodded her head.

"And they were there when…" Rory trailed off, "well, you know when."

"Yeah," Paris shook her head, still having trouble wrapping her mind around the fact that her roommate was now a bona fide billionaire, "How are you doing with that by the way? How are you feeling about it? I know that, at first, you felt guilty about it. But what about now?"

"Honestly?" Rory asked her eyes somewhat glassy.

"Of course," the blonde frowned, worried for her friend.

"Sad," Rory shook her head and bit back her tears, "I'm feeling sad – and _angry_. I mean, I know I didn't know him. But from the letter he left me, I got the impression that he was pretty amazing. But I never even met him – and _Christopher,_ " Rory chocked, "never even mentioned him to me. I had absolutely no idea the man even existed…"

Sitting beside her, Paris looked sympathetically at Rory. But rather than make the brunette feel better, it only made her feel worse.

"I mean," Rory sniffled, "I knew he existed, of course. But for all I knew he died decades ago," she rubbed angrily at her eyes, hoping to conceal her tears before anyone noticed them, "My mom was great growing up, even when we didn't have much. Because of how great she was, it never felt like I was missing out on anything, you know? But," Rory shook her head, "reading that letter, for the first time, it really felt like I had missed out on something big. And I'm so very angry, because I never even got to meet him. He left me almost _everything,"_ she cried quietly, "but it feels like a poor trade _. I would rather have had the chance to know him._ "

* * *

 **Thursday November 18** **th** **2004,** **Hartford Court House (Court Room 2) 10:29 a.m.**

Judge Collins entered the courtroom, his portly figure trudging slowly up to his bench. In temperament, Judge Collins was a cross old man with little care for fools. Oh, the man laughed at the foibles of his neighbours readily enough, but he didn't care to address such foibles in his court room. This, perhaps, might not have been such an obstacle to his daily life as it could have been. Unfortunately, Judge Collins was also apt to think very highly of himself – and very lowly of everyone else. And so, the old man often mistook individuals of sound mind and good intellect for idiots. Interestingly enough, this happened most often with individuals of greater intellect than his own.

With little ceremony, the rotund man plopped himself down upon the bench and addressed the courtroom, "We are here today to settle the terms of divorce for one Mr. Dean Forester and one Mrs. Lindsay Lister-Forester. Have I gotten anything wrong so far?"

Dean looked at the judge, feeling uncomfortable under the man's scrutiny. There was just something about it…

"No?" Judge Collins confirmed with a satisfied smirk, "Well, let us move on, now shall we. It seems that neither spouse is quite satisfied with the terms the other has demanded. Now, as I am a gentleman, I will allow Mrs. Lister-Forester's lawyer to begin the proceedings. Mr. Miller, please be so kind as to state your client's case."

"Yes your honor," Brent Miller, "My client has been married to Mr. Forester for little over a year now. In that year, she has sacrificed a great deal in for her husband's happiness and wellbeing. Despite this, as time went on, Mr. Forester seemed to grow progressively dissatisfied with her. Until, finally, after picking a fight with her for having gone out with a few friends on the night of October 13th 2004, he left their home. On the 17th of October, my client returned to their home to find his family removing her property from their apartment. Despite repeated attempts on my client's part to contact Mr. Forester, her husband stoutly avoided her. And so, on the 21st of October, Mrs. Lister-Forester was served with divorce papers. And, if you look over the document your honor, you will agree with me that the terms are preposterous."

Sitting beside her lawyer, Lindsay looked at Dean victoriously, her arrogance and conceit dripping from her very pores. Her parents looked just as pleased with themselves as their daughter, Reginald Lister even going so far as to straighten his spine and puff out his chest. Beside Dean, his mother let out an annoyed huff, glaring angrily at Mr. Lister. His father, though he had dearly wished to be present, had been convinced by Miss. Winters to remain far away from the proceeding. Instead, Matthew Forester was currently spending the morning with daughter, being dragged through various shops in the mall.

Clara, for her part, had appeared both pleased and annoyed with the arrangement. Although the allure of shopping held its charms, shopping with her father did not. But, like Matthew, Clara had been as anxious for the results of the hearing, and decided to accompany the rest of the family. Besides, it was hardly as if she had anything better to do. After all of the recent upset, Principal Higgins had taken pity on her and excused her from classes for the rest of the semester. Clara, of course, would have to complete the numerous assignments which Minnie brought home for her daily. But Principal Higgins had thought it best for her to remain at home until after the trials had taken place.

Judge Collins stared down Brent Miller with a withering glare, "Thank you, Mr. Miller," he hissed, "but I believe I would like to judge the situation for _myself_."

Shuffling with his papers for several long moments, Judge Collins frowned gravely, "I see you have petitioned for child support."

"Yes your honor," Brent jumped up at attention like an eager rabbit awaiting a carrot, "my client is fourteen weeks pregnant. And although he has been informed of the situation, Mr. Forester has not only failed to rectify his terms, but has all but flatly refused to offer child support."

"I see," Judge Collins hissed out, unimpressed, "Mr. Forester, would you care to explain why it is you believe that you need not take responsibility for your child?"

Dean's jaw tensed as the judge looked down upon him, his glare an odd mixture of annoyance, disgust and amusement.

 _The man was mocking him…_

"If I may your honor," Miss. Winters smiled.

Judge Collins nodded his head in acquiescence, looking down at them regally from his bench. Even to Dean, it was quite clear that the judge reveled in his position, and felt quite comfortable looking down his nose at the lesser beings lying prostate at his feet.

"If you look through the documents, you will find that my client has stated that he is, in part, seeking a divorce due to his wife's infidelity," Miss. Winters gestured to Lindsay.

At this, the Listers tensed. Reginald, who had appeared pleased moments earlier, turned red with rage. So much so, that Dean wondered, if it had not been for the bailiff standing beside Judge Collins, would Reginald have attacked them in the middle of the court room?

"Hmm," Judge Collins answered thoughtfully.

"Your honor," Lindsay's lawyer laughed incredulously, "there is absolutely no proof of any infidelity on my client's part. To claim infidelity on the part of the mother as a reason to deny a child financial support is utterly despicable, especially if there is no proof. Why, I would even posit that Mr. Forester is falsely accusing Mrs. Lister-Forester of infidelity simply to gain your favor."

Seated beside her lawyer, Lindsay sniffled and dabbed at eyes daintily with her white monogrammed handkerchief.

Dean turned away from the scene, disgusted by the performance.

"Well, Mr. Forester," Judge Collins snorted, "what do you say to such a charge?"

"They're lies," Dean fidgeted nervously, "I did not just make it up. Why would I? I had already contacted Miss. Winters to begin the divorce proceedings when I returned to the apartment on October 13th, and found Lindsay in bed with her _friend._ "

"You swine!" Reginald roared, enraged, "How dare you?"

"Mr. Lister," Judge Collins snarled, "Restrain yourself! I shall not condone such behavior in _my_ court room."

"But," Mr. Lister spluttered.

"Sir," the Judge Collins hissed, banging his gavel for emphasis, "be quiet, or I shall have you held in contempt."

Red faced and indignant, Reginald gaped like a fish for several moments. Finally, with an angry hiss, the man scowled and crossed his arms in front of his chest, glaring murderously at Dean.

"This is ridiculous your honor," Brent Miller exclaimed, "the fact is, even if any of what Mr. Forester claimed was true, which it is not, it still would not excuse him from paying child support."

Miss. Winters snorted, "It would if the child was not his."

"As my client has never cheated on her husband," the smarmy lawyer sneered, "there can be no doubt that the child is his."

"Then Mrs. Lister-Forester will not object to a paternity test," Miss. Winters grinned.

"Yes, she will," Lindsay's layer snarled, "Again, I say there is no proof of infidelity on the part of my client. Given that, how can you rightly expect Mrs. Lister-Forester to undergo such an invasive and _unnecessary_ procedure."

"Enough," Judge Collins yelled, "I've had enough of this. Now," he turned his disapproving gaze to Dean, "Mr. Forester, would you be so kind as to tell me why exactly it is that you are convinced that the child is not yours?"

Dean fidgeted and cleared his throat, "Well, your honor," he began nervously, "Mr. Miller stated that Lindsay was fourteen weeks pregnant."

"Yes," Judge Collins snorted derisively, his patience having reached its limit, "And?"

"Well sir, in the month of April, Lindsay took offence to the fact that I was still in contact with my ex-girlfriend. She banned me from the bedroom and refused to allow me back until I promised that I wouldn't speak to Rory ever again. But, even then she wasn't satisfied and our fights escalated. So, perhaps, in all the chaos of it all, she's simply forgotten," Dean reddened considerably, "but we haven't had sex since that fight. And that's how I know that the baby isn't mine. If it was, she'd be seven months along now."

"You –" Reginald Lister yelled, but was at a loss of words to express his rage. Instead, the man jumped up from his seat, ready to engage in a fist fight with Dean. Brent Miller, however, managed to grab a hold of the man and push him back in his seat.

The damage, however, was already done, "Mr. Lister," Judge Collins snarled, " _sit down and be quiet."_

Lost in his indignation, however, Reginald failed to heed the warning, "You cannot be serious!" he shrieked, "This man has treated my daughter most shamefully. And now, after all he has done, I am to just sit here and listen to that wretch spew such hateful lies about my precious little Lindsay!"

"Yes, Mr. Lister," the portly judge demanded, "that is exactly what I expect you to do. And, I warn you now, one more outburst out of you and you will not only find yourself spending the night in holding, but I will charges laid against you. Am I understood?"

Breathing heavily, Reginald Lister seethed in rage.

"I said," Judge Collins hissed, "am I understood?"

"Yes your honor," the Lister's lawyer cut in, "you are understood."

Under Brent's warning glare, Mr. Lister reluctantly gave in. Beside him, his wife was just as indignant with rage as he was. Lindsay, however, had gone as white as a sheet. Staring at her, Dean knew that she had finally realised that there was no conceivable way for the child she carried to be his. With wide eyes, the blonde met his steely gaze. Something about his calm, stoic demeanour must have greatly displeased her, for within a moment, her shock gave way to anger. With a haughty sniff, she turned away from him and straightened her posture. Despite all that had happened, despite all that had been revealed, it was clear that Lindsay still believed she would win the day.

Unfortunately, the blonde had underestimated his determination and did not realise that the war was already won. Following his sister's arrest, Dean had gone to great lengths to see to it that he would be free of Lindsay with minimal entangles. Luck, thankfully, had also been on his side – though Clara would forever bemoan the manner in which luck had chosen to visit them…

"Be that as it may your honor," Mr. Miller continued to plead his client's case, "it remains that Mr. Forester has no proof of his allegations. And as such, I demand that his preposterous stories be dismissed and my client be awarded the child support which is her due."

"But that's just it Mr. Miller," Dean's lawyer laughed, "there is proof."

"What?" Lindsay shrieked, "There can't be!"

"Yet," Miss. Winters smirked, "there is," she picked up and waved a thick folder before all of their eyes, "I have here the sworn testimony of one Mr. George Wick. In it, the man not only admits to having been found in bed with Mrs. Lister-Forester by my client on the night of the 13th of October, but he also goes on to testify that he has had an ongoing sexual relationship with her. It seems that this particular relationship dates all the way back to January of 2000, a full two years prior to when Mr. Forester first began dating Mrs. Lister-Forester. And according to Mr. Wick, it has been an _ongoing_ relationship ever since January of 2000. It seems that, _Miss. Lister's_ vows to her husband, did not affect her sex life with Mr. Wick in the _least._ "

"He's lying!" Lindsay snarled before Brent could intercede, "it's his word against _mine_. And I say mine is worth more than _his."_

"Really?" Miss. Winters asked condescendingly, "Do you swear?"

"Yes," the blonde shrieked, "I have never had sex with George Wick in my life!"

Smirking, Miss. Winters shared a triumphant look with the Foresters, "That is odd, as within this folder," she held up the folder which contained George Wick's testimony, "I have also included some rather enlightening photos. You see," Miss. Winters gave Brent a wide grin, her teeth gleaming dangerously in the light, "whilst preparing to work on a video project for school, Clara Forester, my client's fourteen year old sister, stumbled upon a rather interesting video of Mrs. Lister-Forester and Mr. George Wick. I had stills captured for your viewing pleasure Judge Collins."

Trembling and eyes filling with defeated tears, Lindsay sunk deep in her seat even as Miss. Winters handed the file over to the judge. Judge Collins looked them over for several long minutes, paying a great deal of attention to them. So much so, that the room began to feel quite uncomfortable. Finally, with a murderous scowl upon his face, the man held up a photograph of Lindsay and her lover wrapped together in a lewd embrace.

Scandalized, Mrs. Lister gasped and turned her gaze away.

"Given this new information," Judge Collins said, his voice as hard as steel, "I will require that a paternity test be made in order to determine whether or not Mr. Forester is actually the father. If he is so, I will see that an appropriate sum be allotted for child support."

"This is insupportable," Mr. Lister exclaimed, made reckless by his rage once more, "Those photographs have been manipulated! My daughter swore to you that she has not had sex with this George Wick and she ought to be taken at her word. Instead, you wish to force her to undergo an unnecessary procedure. I have never been so insulted in my life," he pointed angrily at the judge.

Poor Brent Miller attempted to reel the beast in once more, but all his valiant effort were wasted. Reginald Lister simply continued to rail against the injustices of the world, attempting to force his own point of view on Judge Collins, "I demand that you rid yourself of such a foolish notion and proceed with our plea. You may begin by granting Lindsay the child support she is due. After which we may discuss an appropriate sum for monetary compensation. If you ask me, my little girl was too lenient towards these filthy ingrates."

Defeated, Brent Miller plopped down to his seat even as his client tied a noose around his own neck. Smiling condescendingly upon Judge Collins, Reginald gestured towards the man, treating him like a wayward child, "You may proceed now Judge Collins. I trust you have seen the error in your judgement now that the matter has been clarified for you."

The Listers squawked indignantly as Reginald was escorted from the room by the bailiff.

* * *

 **Thursday November 18** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Lister Residence) 3:13 p.m.**

Lindsay seethed at the injustice of it all.

Once more, her poor father would be spending the night, unjustly incarcerated.

 _How dare that portly old fool have the audacity to order her father be put in jail and charges be pressed against him?_

The cruelty which some individuals could display utterly sickened Lindsay.

The entire situation, of course, was made all the worse by the judge's foolish verdict. That she, _Lindsay Lister_ , would have to suffer through the indignity of a paternity test. _Oh, it just infuriated her so._ So what if Dean wasn't the father of her child, as Lindsay now admittedly realised? What did it matter in the end? She was still pregnant. And Dean was still her husband. So what if the baby wasn't his, in Lindsay's astute option the idiot should still be held responsible for it.

 _The jerk should have kept his mouth shut and agreed to pay child support._

But he hadn't – and now Lindsay faced a terrible dilemma.

The blonde knew that, no matter what she said, if she was forced to take a paternity test and the test turned out negative, she would lose the upper hand. It was bad enough that Wicky had given Dean's lawyer a statement (when she got her hands on him) but the photographs of them in bed together were quite damning. Even if Lindsay continued to argue that they were photoshopped, the judge would realise that she had lied to him if that damn paternity test turned out negative. And then, Lindsay knew, it would be highly unlikely her settlement would be as large as she rightly deserved.

No, the only way to stop all of this, would be to bring a halt to divorce proceedings altogether. Although Lindsay was loathed to take the fool back after all that he had done, remaining married to Dean Forester was her best option at the moment – at least until the baby was born and Dean signed the certificate. Then, she would file for divorce, when she could feasibly argue that the buffoon had taken responsibility for the baby, and he would have to pay child support no matter the actual paternity.

Thankfully, Lindsay knew just the thing to do to get her husband to retract the suit. After all, the blonde was convinced that if it weren't for Rory Gilmore, her husband would never have had the gall to petition her for a divorce in the first place. His obvious infatuation with the Gilmore bastard had gotten her _into_ this mess and it would get her _out_ of it.

* * *

 **Friday November 19** **th** **2004,** **Hartford (Gilmore Manor) 11:52 p.m.**

Their hair in utter disarray, the Gilmore girls exited Richard and Emily Gilmore's home. It had been a night filled with fighting, yelling, reproaches, laughing, silence and even more screaming.

"Well," Lorelai began, utterly exhausted, "that's done."

"Yep," her daughter answered succinctly, just as exhausted.

Both Gilmore could only be thankful that the night had proven worthwhile. Bridges had been mended that night, thanks in no small part to the Haydens. Christopher and Francine had, unknowingly, provided a means of uniting the Gilmores. Poor Francine Hayden, who had once been Emily Gilmore's closest friend, had provided a great deal of entertainment for the Gilmores that night. As for Christopher, although as a subject he was not overtly discussed, there had been, for the first time in Rory's lifetime, an insinuation that Lorelai might have possibly done what was best in not marrying Christopher Hayden.

Needless to say, it had been an emotional night for all involved.

* * *

 **Posted December 23rd 2017**


	34. Winding Up On the Wrong End of the Broom

**Author's Note:** Hi, guys. I just wanted to warn you guys that there is a bit of silliness evolving Clara towards the end of this chapter. I had considered cutting this bit out, but I decided to stay true to the original WS on this front. I hope you guys all enjoy reading about Clara's particular method of persuasion.

Hope you all love this chapter.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 33: Winding Up On the Wrong End of the Broom**

* * *

 **Saturday November 20** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Luke's Diner) 11:52 a.m.**

" _You!"_ Lindsay shrieked angrily, reaching out and shoving Rory, " _You scheming bitch!"_

Shocked, Rory had barely enough time to catch herself against the counter, lest she fall the floor. With wide, horrified eyes, the brunette could only stare mutely at her attacker. In that moment, Rory's world narrowed to the disgusted sneer on the blonde's face. She did not hear the general cry of outrage against Lindsay. Nor did she see Miss. Patty, Luke and even Kirk rush forward, fully prepared to physically put themselves between Lindsay and her befuddled prey.

It hardly needs mentioning, but Lindsay was just as oblivious to the reactions of her neighbours as Rory was. The hateful blonde was much too preoccupied in reveling in the satisfaction she would gain from seeing the Gilmore bastard brought so low publically.

" _How dare you,"_ Lindsay hissed, pointing an accusing finger at Rory, " _How dare you attempt to interfere with my marriage once more, you hateful shrew!_ How could you convince Dean to ask me for a divorce? And the terms you convinced him to set, you despicable whore! _Do you know that I am pregnant?_ Wasn't it bad enough that you convinced him to leave me? Did you have to convince him that he should leave me penniless, without even the benefit of child support?"

Rory stared at the blonde, face ashen as Lindsay surged forward, raising her hand to strike. The blow, however, never landed. Miss. Patty had successfully intervened, forcing Lindsay back several paces.

The blonde, however, was not discouraged, "Do you have no shame? _Oh, who am I trying to fool,"_ she cried, " _Of course you don't!_ You are a whore who simply couldn't _wait_ to sleep around. But then you got pregnant and naturally," Lindsay hissed, "the father wanted nothing to do with a _slag like you._ So now, you are trying to _steal my husband_ , no doubt hoping he will _play daddy to your bastard!"_

* * *

 **Saturday November 20** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 12:07 p.m.**

Half blinded by tears, Rory stumbled over a pile of dirty laundry. This, however, did not deter her. Sobbing, she half-hazardly threw some clothes into her travelling bags. Rory needed to leave Stars Hollow – and she needed to leave _now._

She just couldn't stand the thought of facing all of her friends and neighbours – not after that awful scene at the diner.

After what Lindsay had accused her of, Rory's flight response had taken over. She had simply rushed out of the diner, all the while Lindsay continued to shriek in the background. Her heart and stomach had been in her throat and she felt dizzy and panicked all at the same time. Again and again, Rory wondered…

 _What must they all think of her?_

* * *

 **Saturday November 20** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 12:18 p.m.**

"Rory?" Lorelai called out desperately, "Rory where are you?"

Anxiously, she rushed inside the house, not even bothering to close the door. The cold bit at her heels, but Lorelai barely noticed it. Frantically, she searched the house for any of her daughter. Finding Rory hastily packing her bags in her room, Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief.

She sighed, biting back some tears, "Luke called. He said you had a run in with Lindsay…" Lorelai trailed off, "and she apparently said some things."

"Yeah," Rory cried, shoving her books into her backpack, "she did. Did you know?"

"Oh Rory," she moaned, looking at her daughter dejectedly.

"You knew, didn't you," Rory snipped, accusingly, "you knew that Dean had asked Lindsay for a divorce. But instead of telling me, you just let her ambush me like that!"

"Are you okay?" Lorelai worried her lip.

"No," the young woman sobbed, "I'm not okay mom. Lindsay just accused me of convincing Dean to leave her and abandon their baby so that I could have him back. How could you not tell me that Dean was trying to divorce Lindsay?"

"Rory," Lorelai grimaced, "things weren't as simple as that. Things haven't been…" she searched for an appropriate way to convey the news, " _good_ where the Listers are concerned in the past few weeks. Not since the start of October."

"No? Really? I wonder why?" Rory hissed, "It couldn't possibly be because Dean is divorcing Lindsay while she's pregnant with their baby, could it?"

"It's more than that!" Lorelai interjected, "I was trying to protect you!"

"Protect me?" her daughter snarled incredulously, "protect me from what?"

"From _them_ ," she hissed, "from the Listers. Look, kid," Lorelai began, taking a deep breath, "I don't know all of the details. But I do know that, when Dean left Lindsay, things got very bad very quick. Mr. Lister and Lindsay even attacked Clara when she and her dad went to get Dean's things from his apartment. And things haven't calmed down since, okay? In fact they've gotten worse," she cried, "Mrs. Lister attacked Mrs. Forester, Lindsay attacked Dean – twice, and the Listers even went so far as to have Clara, _a fourteen year old girl_ and their _victim_ , arrested for allegedly assaulting Lindsay."

Her knees buckling, Rory plopped down on her bed, her face pale and shocked. With wide eyes and a gaping mouth, the young woman stared at her mother, horrified, "I – I can't –"

"So when I _said_ that things were _really bad,"_ Lorelai exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion, "I wasn't just saying it to _placate_ you. I was saying _it,_ because I didn't want you in the middle of _it._ They _severely injured_ Dean's fourteen year old sister, just because she was helping him _move out_. Could you image what they would have done to you if they had known? I did! It's been the focus of _my nightmares_ for the past month!"

Breathing heavily, on the verge of a panic attack, Rory exclaimed, "I need to go."

"What?" Lorelai cried, tears streaming down her face.

"I can't –" Rory began, stuttering, "I have to –" she shook her head and clumsily gathered her half-packed bags, " _I need to think,_ I can't stay here. _I have to go."_

* * *

 **Saturday November 20** **th** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Gilmore Residence) 12:13 p.m.**

Lindsay felt ecstatic in her victory.

She was certain that, even now, word of what Rory Gilmore had done to her was spreading like wildfire. Of course, Lindsay had embellished her accusations quite a bit, but she had no doubt that the people of Stars Hollow would see the truth of it. Rory Gilmore might not have convinced her husband to leave her, but Lindsay knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the little bastard was the better part of his motivation.

A motivation which would crumble the moment Dean realised his precious Rory Gilmore had gotten knocked up by some strange man like any two bit whore.

Lindsay was convinced that, once Dean heard the news, he would realise just how good his life with her had been and drop the petition for divorce accordingly. They would then go on to raise her child happily, with Dean giving into her very demand. Or at least, they would do so as long as the situation suited Lindsay.

The blonde was so convinced as to how things would be that she had skipped the appointment the court had set for her paternity test yesterday.

 **Sunday November 21** **st** **2004,** **Branford Resident College (Courtyard) 10:35 a.m.**

Dean Forester took a deep breath as he entered the residential building of Branford College. Reaching the fourth floor, he looked up and down the hall, searching for dorm 4B. Finding it on the far end of the left corridor, Dean paused in front of the door. Nervously, he straightened his clothes and removed his tuque, carding his fingers through his hair and hoping to repair the damage his winter apparel had done.

Finally, after several long moments of attempting to flatten his unruly hair back into place, Dean realised the situation was a loss cause. He would simply have to swallow down his embarrassment and accept that, after months of not having seen one and other, he would be sporting the hedgehog look when Rory Gilmore opened her dorm room door.

* * *

 **Sunday November 21** **st** **2004,** **Branford Resident College (Rory's Dorm) 10:37 a.m.**

Rory stared stubbornly at the screen of her laptop.

She had an essay paper to write on individual agency or the lack thereof in Victorian literature, with a particular emphasis on _The Beetle_ by Richard Marsh and Marie Corelli's _Wormwood: A Drama of Paris_ – but for the life of her, Rory just couldn't seem to get started on it. It was ridiculous really. She knew exactly what it was she wanted to write, what her arguments were and her conclusion. Rory just couldn't seem to actually _write_ the paper. Whenever she tried to think of a good way to introduce her essay topic, her mind would just wander off on its own. So, instead of contemplating the growing fears and concerns of the late Victorians, Rory would find herself contemplating her _own._

Since she had left Stars Hollow yesterday afternoon, Rory's mind had been nothing more than a jumbled mess. And despite her best efforts, Rory just couldn't make heads or tails of it. It was one thing to learn that, after all of these months, Dean was finally seeking a divorce from Lindsay. But to learn of the divorce as Lindsay spewed hateful accusations at her, well, that was another thing altogether. After months of agonizing over the eventual confrontation, the reality had been as agonizing as Rory had always imagined it would – although for different reasons altogether.

And then, to learn that her mother had known of it all and had purposely kept the news from her had been a devastating blow. Just as devastating was the horrifying news that the relationship between Dean and Lindsay had grown so contentious that it had ended in a physical altercation on more than one occasion…

 _It was all too much!_

How was Rory even supposed to process all of that?

Most of all, how in the world was she even supposed to figure out how her children and herself were meant to fit in all of this? Initially, Rory had chosen to put off informing Dean of his impending fatherhood due to the difficulty of the situation, due to his marriage to Lindsay. But, with that obstacle gone, shouldn't she tell Dean the truth?

Rory knew that she should – just as she knew that she should have told him long ago, despite the circumstances.

But a horrible thought nagged at her. If she told Dean the truth now, would she be acting recklessly? Would she be putting her children in harm's way? Despite how angry she had been with her mother, Rory realised that Lorelai had had a valid argument. The situation between the Listers and Foresters was volatile at best at the moment and putting herself and her children in the middle of it could lead to disaster.

 _What should she do?_

Rory truly didn't know and it had her all in knots.

* * *

 **Sunday November 21** **st** **2004,** **Branford Resident College (Rory's Dorm) 10:39 a.m.**

Dean Forester had expected many things when he had knocked on Rory Gilmore's dorm room door.

When Dean had left early that morning he had fully expected, and accepted, that his present mission would undoubtedly be an exercise in martyrdom. Seeing Rory for the first time months, seeing her pregnant with another man's child would be heart-wrenching, awkward and utterly devastating. And although Dean would have preferred to be doing anything else that morning, he had been unable to convince himself to forgo the expedition. Not with news of Rory and Lindsay's confrontation running rampant through town. Despite the fact that the woman he loved had quite clearly moved on, Dean couldn't ignore the overwhelming urge he felt to insure that Rory was safe and unharmed.

And so, despite all of expectations, Dean had made his way to Yale that morning and had knocked on Rory Gilmore's door.

But what Dean found on the other side of that door hadn't matched his expectations in the least.

Had his heart soared at his first glimpse of her?

 _Yes._

Had it plummeted to the bottom of his stomach once that initial glimpse had faded, and Dean remembered that Rory was no longer his?

 _Yes._

Had Rory Gilmore been pregnant?

 _Yes, she had been._

In those first few moments after Rory had opened the door, everything had matched Dean's expectations. But, as the sight of the woman he loved fully began to sink in, so did his shock.

 _Yes, Rory Gilmore was pregnant – and obviously so._

 _Too obviously._

When Dean had overheard Minnie and Clara discussing Rory's pregnancy, he had never heard either of them mention just how far along she was. Still, Dean had expected that Rory couldn't be much further along than the first couple of months. But looking at Rory in that moment, it had been quite clear that she was much further along than that.

In those few frantic moments, a horrible suspicion entered Dean's mind. But it wasn't until he met Rory's glassy, horrified eyes that he understood that his suspicion was true.

Rory Gilmore was pregnant with _his_ baby.

 _And she hadn't told him._

* * *

 **Sunday November 21** **st** **2004,** **Branford Resident College (Rory's Dorm) 3:54 p.m.**

Hidden underneath a veritable mountain of blankets, Rory Gilmore sobbed her heart out into her pillow. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were rumpled, her nose was stuffy and her eyes were bloodshot from all the crying she had done. Still, Rory remained where she was, lying in bed, tangled in her sheets and crying into a sodden pillow.

All Rory had wanted was a couple of days to wrap her mind around everything – to figure out how to deal with the situation.

Instead, with one single knock, her entire world had come crashing down on her ears.

Years later, after the events of that had faded into nothing more than bad memories, Rory would still remember that look of utter devastation which Dean had sported as he walked away.

* * *

 **Monday November 22** **nd** **2004,** **Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 5:33 p.m.**

When Dean Forester had learned that Rory was pregnant with another man's child, the news had crushed him. In that one moment, all of his plans and hopes for the future had been destroyed. He had lost the fight before he has even been able to put his hat in the ring. The woman he loved had moved one, had found another man to love and was having his child.

Or so he had thought.

But Rory Gilmore wasn't pregnant with another man's baby. She was pregnant with _his._ And although the knowledge ought to have made him happy – it didn't – or at least not in the traditional sense. For although the knowledge soothed his aching heart it also ripped him asunder. Rory hadn't moved on and fallen in love with another man. The child she carried was his. But, she had never even bothered to tell him as much. And, if it hadn't been for his psychotic wife, he wouldn't even know now.

 _Had Rory ever planned to tell him?_

Dean didn't know.

And that knowledge broke him.

* * *

 **Monday November 22** **nd** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 5:37 p.m.**

Clara Forester had had enough of this.

She had been through hell these past weeks – and she wasn't about to let her big brother make all of suffering worthless just because he was intent on being his typical oafish, idiotic self.

Clara knew that Dean had gone to see Rory at Yale yesterday morning. And by her brother's oh so ' _cheerful'_ mood the past day, Clara also knew that Dean had finally found out that Rory was pregnant and he was the father. Unfortunately, Dean being… Well, _Dean_ , he hadn't taken the news too well. Clara could see it in his broody, beady little eyes.

Her brother had never been all that good at understanding the finer points of women's emotions and motivations. A handicap which Clara assumed presently played a big role in Dean's current bout of brooding. Add on the fact that, as an adult, Dean's instinct would be to make things much more complicated than they needed to be, and Clara knew that the idiot wouldn't be able to fix things on his own.

This, in and of its own, had been more than enough to set Clara on edge. The knowledge that her parents actually agreed with her, however, had _effectively_ sent her _over_ the edge. The very notion made her itchy – to think that she was in agreement with her parents on this point!

Honestly, was _nothing_ sacred anymore?

No, the situation had to be dealt with. And it had to be dealt with _soon_.

Unfortunately for her brother, Clara wasn't in the mood to beat about the bush any longer than she deemed absolutely necessary that day.

* * *

 **Monday November 22** **nd** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 5:41 p.m.**

"So," Clara began, "When is Rory coming over?"

Surprised, Matthew Forester's fork tore through his Kentucky fried chicken, sending the lovely breaded breast flying off his plate and across the room.

No one, however, took particular note of the flying chicken.

All eyes were firmly trained on his daughter.

Chocking on his piece of chicken, Dean took a deep breath and stuttered, "Coming over?"

"Yeah," the blonde teenager answered matter-of-factly, "I know they aren't born yet, but I was thinking it was high time that the twins had a little Auntie Clara time. Don't you?"

"Twins?" Dean repeated, paling.

" _Clara_ ," his wife hissed, displeased with their daughter's glib attitude. The teenager, however, simply looked at Jane, seemingly unimpressed.

"Wait," Dean cut-in, incensed, "Auntie Clara time?"

"Yeah," Clara snarked.

"Are you telling me," his son hissed, "that you knew that Rory was pregnant with my _baby?"_

"Babies," the teenager emphasized, "and yeah. _We all knew."_

"You all…" Dean hissed, throwing his knife and fork down against his plate, "Are you kidding me? How did you know? Rory didn't even bother telling me. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Mom didn't want us too," Clara shrugged her shoulders, "But you know now, so…"

" _Clara,_ " Jane scolded her daughter.

"I can't believe this," Dean cried, "How could you guys keep this from me?"

"I'm sorry honey," his wife stood and hugged their son, "but with everything going on with the Listers, I just didn't think it was a good idea for Rory to come around here in her condition."

"You had no right!" his son exclaimed, "It's bad enough that Rory didn't tell me. But you guys?"

"Son," Matthew began, hoping to pacify his son.

His efforts, however, came to an abrupt end as his daughter snorted, "Seriously?" Clara asked derisively, "Are you really surprised that Rory didn't tell you about the babies? You were married to the Satan's Whore, can you blame her for not wanting to get in the middle of _that –_ even without the threat of being beaten to a pulp by Lindsay and Daddy Dearest."

"That still doesn't excuse her for not telling me?" Dean yelled.

" _Excuse her?"_ Clara snarled, " _Are you kidding me?_ God, you couldn't _possibly_ be an even _bigger idiot_ if you _actively tried to be_. I might be just a kid and completely oblivious to the strange ways of adulthood, but even I realise that Rory would have _never_ slept with you if she thought for one second that Lindsay was still in the picture. So let me guess, brother dear, you told her that things were over between you and your _wife_ ," the teenager spat, "you slept together. But then, instead of actually trying to divorce Lindsay, you spent months sitting on your hands, acting like an idiot. And now you actually have the gall to be _surprised_ that Rory didn't tell you she was pregnant? What, was she supposed to walk up to you and announce the news while you were happily strolling down Daisy Street with your _wife?_ Or maybe Rory should have told you when the gruesome twosome started attacking people," Clara snarled, "would that have satisfied you. Or would you have preferred to hear the news after _your whore of a wife_ announced to the town that she was pregnant, and claimed that _her bastard_ was your baby?"

Scandalized by his daughter's language and behavior, Matthew intervened, "Clara," he admonished, "that is enough."

"She should have told me," his son reaffirmed softly.

Glaring at them all, his daughter visibly trembled from anger. Before either he or Jane could even attempt to pacify the girl, Clara abruptly stood from the table and exited the dining room.

For a moment, Jane and Matthew looked at each other, utterly bewildered. However, before either one of them could make heads or tails of the situation, Clara re-entered the room, brandishing a broom.

None of them even had a moment to react when, with a war cry that would make any war lord proud, Clara lunged at her brother.

* * *

 **Monday November 22** **nd** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 5:44 p.m.**

Dean ducked behind the couch as the broom missed him by an inch.

He couldn't believe that this was happening to him.

 _How in the world did he ever get himself into these situations to begin with?_

His parents, bewildered by what was happening, simply stared at them mutely as Clara chased him throughout the house, armed with her broom and trying her best to maim him. His options severely limited, Dean did the only thing he could think of doing in the situation. He bobbed his way left and right, dodging his sister's attack until he managed to reach the coat rack and run out of the house.

As he crossed the threshold, Dean almost slid right off the patio. For a moment, he was utterly startled by the change that had taken place outside.

Although Dean hadn't known it until then, the first snow of the year had arrived and covered the ground in several inches of the refreshing powder. Distracted by it all, Dean didn't notice his sister until it was much too late. Having chased her prey out of the house, Clara struck out one last time. And so, with a harsh jab of the broom to his backside, Dean stumbled off the small patio and landed on the ground, the fluffy white crystals breaking his fall.

* * *

 **Monday November 22** **nd** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 5:45 p.m.**

Staring down at her older brother sprawled out on the freezing ground, covered in a layer of sparkling snow, Clara huffed. With a dramatic flair, she rolled her eyes, lowered her broom, and walked back into the house. The front door slammed shut with a loud bang.

 **Monday November 22** **nd** **2004, Stars Hollow (Forester Residence) 5:46 p.m.**

A moment later, Dean heard a loud, distinct click.

Clara had locked him out of the house.

Breathing heavily, Dean just laid there, shocked at what his sister had done. He couldn't believe the brat had had the gall to do all of that, and for what? What had been the point? Humiliating him?

Frowning, Dean thought of it for a moment and realised that the little imp had looked unduly proud of herself when she had locked him out of the house. It was thus, with an angry curse, that Dean realised that Clara had effectively herded him out of the house. With a groan, Dean let his head fall back down into the fluffy white snow, intending to wait a minute or two until his parents could take his sister back in hand and unlock the door.

But that didn't happen. Or if it did, Dean didn't notice it. Because, while staring up at the starry night sky, and watching the snow flutter down towards him, Dean realised a very important thing.

Clara was right.

 _Again._

 _He really was an idiot._

* * *

 **Monday November 22** **nd** **2004,** **Branford Resident College (Rory's Dorm) 7:59 p.m.**

Paris glared at the man standing in front of her.

She couldn't believe that, after all that he had done, the jerk actually had the gall to show his face at their dorm again. Rory had spent the better part of the last thirty-six hours crying, and had barely been able to stop long enough to attend class that morning. And yet, here he stood, fidgeting nervously underneath her glare.

Angry, Paris opened her mouth to give Dean Forester a piece of her mind when a sniffling Rory walked out of her room, "Paris," she called out her voice thick and trembling, "Whose there?"

"Rory?" Dean asked, his voice catching, "It's me. I wanted to talk."

With a snarl, Paris' left foot shot out, intent on stumping the overgrown oaf in the foot. Unfortunately, the idiot had seen the attack coming and stepped out of the way.

"Dean?" Rory cried.

"Yeah," he answered, stepping around Paris and entering the dorm, "I'm here."

Disgruntled, Paris looked at Rory, wanting to convince her to kick the jerk out. However, there was a determination in the brunette's eyes that belied Rory's pathetic and downtrodden appearance. And so, with an angry snarl at the beefcake, Paris viciously poked him in the chest, "I have an xacto knife in my crafts corner," she informed him, "If I come back and find her worse off than she already is, I'll be using your guts for clay."

* * *

 **Monday November 22** **nd** **2004,** **Branford Resident College (Rory's Dorm) 8:03 p.m.**

Dean startled as Paris angrily slammed the door shut.

"I'm sorry," Rory croaked out softly.

Looking at her, Dean could only feel guilty. Despite how awful he had felt the past day, Dean couldn't help but think that Rory had felt much worse. Her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed. Her cute little nose was all red and sniffling. And beautiful blue eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears.

"its fine," Dean answered softly.

"No, it's not," Rory cried, a couple of tears spilling from her eyes, "I should have told you from the start. I knew I should have, but it all just felt so hard. And I couldn't deal with it and Lindsay and I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry," she sobbed.

Dean, however, shook his head and shushed her. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close, "No," he said, "It's my fault. I screwed up in so many ways Rory," he cried, "I should have never married Lindsay in the first place. And even I'm not sorry we slept together, how could I be now," he placed his hand on her swollen stomach, "I shouldn't have had sex with you while I was married to _her._ You were a virgin and I took advantage of that – and I'm so unbelievably sorry. I'm sorry for everything, but especially for staying married to Lindsay despite what had happened between the two of us."

Rory sobbed in his arms and Dean's heart broke at the sound.

"It's not your fault," Dean cried, "I should have realised. I was stupid. I'm sorry."

* * *

 **Posted December 24th 2017**


	35. The Beginning in the End

**Author's Note:** Well, here it is guys. After this chapter, all that is left for me to post is the epilogue. Given this, I felt that now was the appropriate time for me to thank you all. I have enjoyed working on this story and I am pleased that you have all enjoyed reading it as well. I would especially like to thank my most faithful reviewers; Droolia, YaleAceBella12, EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester, sweetreader and Sara1287. You guys kept me going and I am very glad you've enjoyed the story so much. To all my readers, I wish you a Merry Christmas and hope you are enjoying the Holidays.

And so, I wish you all the best for 2018.

Now, on with the final bit of drama I have planned for you all...

As for me, I'm off to enjoy Christmas Eve dinner.

* * *

 **When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **Chapter 34: The Beginning in the End**

* * *

 **Monday November 22** **nd** **2004, Stars Hollow** **(Lister Residence) 7:21 p.m.**

Infuriated, Lindsay Lister-Forester threw her cellphone against the wall. She felt a brief moment of satisfaction as she watched it shatter into a dozen pieces. However, her ire had been well earned and nothing could distract her from it for long.

The day had begun so well. Her father, after having been unjustly incarcerated once more, had been released that morning. He had, disgustingly enough, been forced to pay a fine of five hundred dollars beforehand, but he had been released. And to Lindsay, her father's homecoming had felt like the dawn of a new age. Her father was home, the Foresters would soon be tried for their crimes and her husband was about to retract his petition for divorce.

All had been well in her little corner of the world.

But then, at around noon, Lindsay had received the call.

It had been a court official calling to reschedule the appointment for the paternity test she had missed last Friday. Valiantly, Lindsay had attempted to make the woman understand that she was operating under outdated information. But no matter how many times the blonde had told the old crone that the paternity test was no longer necessary, and that her husband had undoubtedly already retracted the divorce petition, the woman would not let the matter drop. Why, the little wretch had even gone so far as to threaten _her._

" _Mrs. Lister-Forester,"_ she had said, _"I do not particularly care whether or not you believe that your husband has retracted his petition for divorce. All I care about is the fact that you are on my list. And, as long as you are on my list, I will see fit to schedule the necessary appointments. Now,"_ the woman all but snarled, _"for the last time, I have scheduled you an appointment for three-thirty this afternoon. If for whatever reason you decide to forgo it once more, know that there will be consequences. Good day."_

The idea that a lowly civil servant felt entitled enough to treat her in such an odious manner had consumed her for an hour or two.

Naturally, the thought of actually attending the appointment had never once crossed Lindsay's mind.

What had crossed her mind, however, was the thought of calling her husband to complain about the ineptitude of his lawyer. However, after several hours of attempting to do so, her calls were still being directed to voicemail. With each failed attempt, the gnawing feeling in her stomach grew.

* * *

 **Tuesday November 23** **rd** **2004, Branford Resident College** **(Rory's Dorm) 7:43 a.m.**

For the first time in months, Dean Forester awoke in the morning truly content with his lot in life. After month of gut-wrenching strife, it finally felt as if Dean's life was taking a turn for the better. True, his life was now technically a much bigger mess than it had been just last week. And, also true, he had no idea how he and Rory would raise not just one, but two babies at their age. But, for the first time in a long time, Dean felt as if everything was right in his world.

They had ample time to make all the necessary decisions and to worry about the future. For now, Dean only wanted to enjoy what he had while he still had it. And so, he burrowed deeper beneath the covers of Rory's bed, holding her close to him.

* * *

 **Tuesday November 23** **rd** **2004, Stars Hollow** **(Lister Residence) 8:13 a.m.**

Lindsay whined pathetically and pulled her pillow over her ears, desperately trying to block out the sound of some wretched fool knocking on their front door at such an ungodly hour. For several long moments, Lindsay would hope that the idiot would simply wander off if her family ignored them long enough. But this was not to be, as in retaliation, the wretch simply proceeded to knock more loudly than before.

With a loud curse, Lindsay listened as her father got from bed and angrily marched down to the first floor. Hoping to get back to sleep, Lindsay rolled over onto her left side and burrowed deeper under her duvet.

The sound of her father yelling, however, promptly put an end to her plans.

On the other side of their front door, Reginald Lister had found two police officers. No longer trusting Lindsay to see to the paternity test, the court had sent a patrol out to escort her to the clinic, where she would undergo the test that very morning.

* * *

 **Thursday November 25** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow** **(Dragonfly Inn) 6:49 p.m.**

As Dean took his seat beside Rory, he tried his best to be as charming and pleasant as he could possibly. He wanted to try and to make a good impression this Thanksgiving dinner, in the hopes that his presence wouldn't strain the relationships which Rory held most dear. Unfortunately, his efforts didn't seem to be making any headway. And between Luke glowering at him from one end of the table and the elder Gilmores staring coldly at him, Dean was left with little doubt that he was surrounded by people who would love nothing more than to disembowel him in that moment.

Needless to say, Dean felt quite strained at the moment.

Still, dinner was due to begin in a few minutes and a man could certainly hope that such delicious food would offer a distraction for his critics. Dean was especially hopeful that this would prove to be true in the case of Paris Gellar. For, although he knew all too well that Luke Danes and Richard Gilmore were not his biggest fans, Dean very much doubted that either man would attempt to physically _harm_ him. The young man, however, wasn't so sure about Paris Gellar. Although quite tiny, there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes that gave him the impression that not only was she quite capable of murdering him if the mood struck her, but that she had the know how to get away with it to boot.

It made him weary.

All in all, Dean Forester could only be thankful that their neighbours, although having grown suspicious of his role in Rory's pregnancy, hadn't decided to join in on the mutiny.

* * *

 **Thursday November 25** **th** **2004, Stars Hollow** **(Dragonfly Inn)**

Gathered around the formal dining table of the Dragonfly Inn, the good people of Stars Hollow brought in the season amongst friends and family. And although tensions were still high in some quarters, for this one night only, all set aside their differences in order to celebrate such a blessed holiday.

In times of strife and tragedy, it was nights such as these that reminded them all of what truly mattered.

* * *

 **Tuesday November 30** **th** **2004, Branford Residential College** **(Courtyard) 12:14 p.m.**

"So," Rory asked giddily, "You'll come."

Grimacing, Dean looked at Rory sceptically, "Are you sure they'll want me there?"

"Of course," she chirped.

Retrieving both his and Rory's cup from the coffee cart boy, Dean sighed, "I' m not so sure Rory. I mean, this _is_ their wedding day. They might not want to have to look at the man that got their granddaughter pregnant in her sophomore year of college."

"First of all," Rory laughed, "It's their marriage _renewal,_ not their actual wedding day. Secondly, you're the father of their great-grandbabies and they're going to have to accept you sooner or later. Finally, and most importantly, _I want you there_. These past few months, watching my grandparents fighting with each other the way they did, it was really hard for me. And now, finally, they've reconciled and I want you there to celebrate with."

"Okay," Dean conceded with a groan.

"Yes," Rory clapped excitedly.

"But I want you to do something for me in exchange," he interjected before she got too carried away to listen to him.

"Anything," she smiled.

"Look," Dean sighed, "I know we just started talking again. And I just recently learned that I'm about to become a father, but the facts are that in just under four months, we'll have two babies on our hands. And we haven't even started to talk about how we are going to deal with that. I know there are a lot of options, but to be perfectly honest, I would prefer it if you and I got a place and raised them together.

Rory looked at him with wide eyes.

"I know we said that we would take our time," Dean rushed out, "and we will. I'm just saying that, from a practical standpoint, that would be the easiest option for us. I don't want to force you into anything you don't want. But I would like you to think about it. And know that if we do decide to move in together, I won't be expecting anything more from you then what you're willing to give me. Will you think about it?"

Rory bit her lip and looked at him so hesitantly that Dean honestly believed that she would refuse him outright. But after several long moments, Rory finally said, "Alright, I'll think about it."

* * *

 **Wednesday December 1** **st** **2004, Stars Hollow** **(Kitty's Ice Cream Parlour) 11:22 a.m.**

Affronted, Shannon and Lindsay glared at Katherine Leigh, the owner of the ice cream parlor. Given all the strife that they had endured, the blondes had felt that they had rightfully earned a decadent chocolate treat. Lindsay had been especially eager to get her hands on some of the shop's hazelnut truffles.

The assistant, however, had flatly refused to serve them.

When they asked for two dozen hazelnut truffles, the assistant replied that they were all sold out. Lindsay, however, could clearly see that the display had been filled with hazelnut truffles. Noticing this as well, Shannon had demand her order to be filled. But the assistant had deflected, stating that the remaining hazelnut truffles had been reserved for a large order down at the Dragonfly Inn.

Scowling, Mrs. Lister had the proceeded to order three dozen assorted fondants. But yet again, she was met with the same answer.

Outraged, and seeing herself insulted by a lowly shop clerk, Shannon Lister had insisted on speaking with the owner. The assistant had attempted to prevaricate on that front, no doubt attempting to save her worthless little job. But eventually, as always, the Listers prevailed and the assistant walked off towards the back, sneering at them contemptuously as she left.

By then, Lindsay's attention had already shifted. And before Kitty had even exited the back room, the blonde had already thought up a list of all the lovely treats she would demand to be given in gratuity in order to make up for the assistant's repugnant behavior. Lindsay's expectations, however, were not to be met. For, rather than being greeted by an apologetic and shamed faced Kitty, the Listers were met by a reserved and frosty Katherine Leigh.

Although Katherine did not say so outright, she left the two Lister women in no doubt that she was declining their business.

* * *

 **Thursday December 2** **nd** **2004, Hartford Grace Hospital** **(Cardiac Ward) 7:49 p.m.**

Francine Hayden sobbed into her handkerchief. Earlier that evening, her husband Straub had suffered a heart attack. His health, which had been in a slow decline since Arthur Hayden's death, hadn't been able to withstand the damage.

Her husband had died that night – and with him, any chance Francine conceivably had of regaining her inheritance.

* * *

 **Friday December 3** **rd** **2004, Hartford Court House** **(Court Room 2 - Hallway) 8:57 a.m.**

Frustrated, Lindsay angrily paced the hallway.

Nothing had gone as she had planned. Not only had Lindsay been forced to undergo and entirely unnecessary medical procedure, but Dean had failed to halt the divorce proceedings. . Most insulting of all, however, had been the ludicrous rumor that Lindsay had heard in town yesterday. It was now widely believed that her _husband_ and not that Marty fellow had impregnated Rory Gilmore. Lindsay, naturally, had meant to confront Dean about the veracity of the rumor. Although it galled her to think it might be true, and she truly intended to make them suffer if it indeed proved to be true, the blonde was smart enough to realise that the unfounded rumor could be quite useful to her if the paternity test indicated that Dean was not the father, as she now highly suspected.

However, despite having waited for him out by the door, the idiot had yet to bother showing up. This despite the fact that the hearing was due to start any minute then.

And when he did finally show, Dean didn't so much as spare her a glance as he strode into the room. Not even when she called out to him or attempted to stop him. The jerk simply shrugged her off and took his seat, cool as could be.

* * *

 **Friday December 3** **rd** **2004, Hartford Court House** **(Court Room 2 - Hallway) 8:57 a.m.**

 _It had to be a sign,_ Dean couldn't help but think as he looked out of the court room windows, _it just had to be._

As a child, Dean had never been too fond of the snow. Growing up in the city of Chicago, snow had always been synonymous with brown sludge. He had never seen the delicacy of it or its beauty – not until he had moved out to Stars Hollow and met Rory Gilmore. There, snow had taken on a quality which Dean could have never expected.

 _Snow became magical._

It marked a time of new beginnings. Of love and laughter, of joy and hope, but most of all, to the Gilmore girls at least, it brought good fortune with it.

And so, Dean simply had to believe that everything would go well that day. For how could it not, with the blessing of a good snowstorm on his side? What did it matter to him if the Listers seemed pretty sure of themselves? If Reginald Lister glared hatefully at him? Or even if Judge Collins appeared disdainful of their very presence? Dean Forester had a snowstorm to see him through it all.

And so, with these thoughts in mind, Dean listened as Judge Collins called the room to order, "As all of you may know," he began imperiously, "we are here today, not only to settle the terms of Mr. and Mrs. Lister-Forester's divorce, but to see the matter of the paternity of Mrs. Lister-Forester's child settled."

After a dramatic pause, Judge Collins continued, "Now, as I see no reason to prolong things, I will begin by stating that Mrs. Lister-Forester's paternity test proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Mr. Forester _did not father_ the child,and as such she will not be entitled to child support. Now, in the mat –"

Judge Collins, however, was not permitted to continue, "I beg your pardon!" Reginald Lister shrieked, furious. Beside him, his daughter whimpered pathetically, although the man was too caught up in his fury to notice, "There has been a mistake!" he announced to one and all, "I demand that these proceedings be withheld until the matter may be resolved. Honestly," the man hissed derisively, ignoring Brent Miller's pleas to calm down and cease speaking, "to make such a grievous error while conducting a paternity test is utterly inexcusable. Especially as the test was unnecessary to begin with."

Lindsay, having recovered of her momentary bout of shame, laid hold of the raft which her father had given her and emphatically nodded her head in agreement. For one long uncomfortable moment, the Listers all looked upon Judge Collins expectantly.

The man, however, rather than to concede to their demands, had taken on a rather brilliant shade of red. Reginald, mistaking it for shame rather than anger, smirked triumphantly at the Foresters. He was so pre-occupied with his perceived victory that the man failed to notice the murderous glint which entered the judge's eyes, "Mister Lister!" Jude Collins exclaimed, infuriated, " _I will not stand for such ridiculous accusations_. No mistake has been made. Mr. Forester is not the father of your daughter's unborn child and I would suggest that you hold your tongue before I see you removed from this court once more. Mr. Lister."

"But, but," Reginald spluttered indignantly for a moment. A warning glare from Judge Collins part, however, quickly brought the man to heel, "I understand," he bit out, disgust and resentment dripping from his voice.

"As I was saying," Judge Collins hissed, "Mr. Forester is not the father of Mrs. Lister-Forester's child and thus not responsible for the child's support. Now, after having reviewed this case and understood all of the particulars, I have also chosen to deny Mrs. Lister-Forester alimony as I deem that, given the length of the marriage and her unfaithfulness, the woman is largely at fault for the destruction of her marriage."

"But I'm not the only one that cheated!" Lindsay cried out desperately, "Dean cheated too. He knocked up that skank, Rory Gilmore."

Scandalized, Shannon Lister put a hand to her breast whilst her husband cursed angrily at Dean.

"Silence!" At the end of his patience, Judge Collins yelled, "Now, Mrs. Lister-Forester, I do not particularly care either way, but, as you seem to have no proof other than your accusations, my verdict shall stand. Just as it would have stood even if you had provided me with proof of your husband's infidelity."

The Listers hissed angrily at the verdict, but Judge Collins continued, ignoring them, "In the matter of the division of assets, Mrs. Lister-Forester is entitled to half of the earnings which her husband made from October 2003 to October of 2004, when Mr. Forester filed for divorce. And so, once court is adjourned, Mr. Forester must see to it that the sum of 14,894 be transferred to his wife's account as of the close of business this week."

"What?" Lindsay shrieked, "But I know for a fact that Dean earned more than fifty thousand last year."

"Yes," Judge Collins snarled, "but a great deal of that money was spent procuring spa outings and baubles. You are only entitled to half of whatever remains and, by the looks of it, you are quite lucky there even remains as much for you to split. Now, court adjourned."

* * *

 **Friday December 3** **rd** **2004, Stars Hollow** **(Lister Residence) 7:13 p.m.**

That night, in her dark little corner of the world, Lindsay Lister seethed with anger. From her perch by her bedroom window, the blonde glared down hatefully at the small town of Stars Hollow, and ugly scowl upon her face.

 _She would make them pay._

They would see.

They would learn.

And they would know.

They should have never defied her to begin with.

* * *

 **Wednesday December 8** **th** **2004, Hartford Court House** **(Court Room 13) 10:13 a.m.**

Clara Forester did her best to keep her breakfast where it belonged.

The task, however, proved more arduous that one could possibly expect. The morning had been positively horrid. After having listened to the Listers spew their hateful lies, Clara had been emotionally drained by the trail. Not even watching her neighbours stand up and denounce to the judge and jury had cheered her.

To be perfectly honest, Clara was deathly afraid that somehow, someway, Mr. Lister would simply walk away scot free. The notion was a ridiculous one. All the reports and witnesses matched her version of what had happened. But still, Lindsay and her parents looked down imperiously upon her, confident in their victory.

It made Clara feel nauseous.

 _How could they feel so certain that the trial would go their way?_

Were they just that delusional?

Or did they know something her family didn't?

Whatever it was, the Listers never once lost their confidence during the trial. They snorted derisively when her statement had been read out. They rolled her eyes when Miss. Patty had testified that she had attempted to protect Clara for further abuse. They had even laughed when Daniel and Steve, the two high school seniors who had pulled Mr. Lister off of her, conveyed the cruelty and violence of Mr. Lister's attack upon Clara.

And when the jury had adjourned not even five minutes after court had let out, Lindsay had thrown that superior smirk at her.

And so, feeling dizzy, nauseous and light headed, Clara awaited the judge's verdict miserably.

* * *

 **Wednesday December 8** **th** **2004, Hartford Court House** **(Court Room 13) 10:14 a.m.**

Seated beside her father, Lindsay all but vibrated with excitement.

This was it.

 _This was the moment she had waited so long for._

 _The moment when the Foresters finally began to receive their just deserts._

True, Lindsay would have to wait until tomorrow to see that brat in chains. But today, _oh today_ , she would have the satisfaction to see Mr. Forester condemned to jail for assaulting her dear father.

It didn't matter to Lindsay that her father was the defendant in this particular trial, rather than the plaintiff. Nor did it matter to her that all of their neighbours had seemingly turned against them and testified in favor of the little gnome. All that mattered to the self-absorbed blonde was that her family had had ample time to relay to the judge and the jury the truth of the situation. And as such, Lindsay had no doubt that she would soon see justice served. For, if it was their word against the word of a group of ridiculous savages, the jury would undoubtedly take their word against that of the savages.

As Judge Lucas asked the jury to state their verdict, Lindsay smirked triumphantly at the Foresters.

So convinced were the Listers that the trial would go their way, it took them several long moments to understand that the jury had found Mr. Lister guilty. By the time the shocking news had begun to sink in, Judge Lucas had taken up his gavel and announced his sentence, "Reginald Lister, you have been found guilty of aggravated assault against a minor. I hereby sentence you to five years in prison, with the possibility of parole in three. You will also be charged a fine of fifty-thousand dollars and be held responsible for the payment of Miss. Clara Forester's medical bills."

"What?" Lindsay shrieked, ignoring Brent Miller's attempts to thwart her, "this is utterly ridiculous Judge Lucas," the self-righteous blonde continued even as her mother screamed obscenities, "did the jury not listen properly? Did the not hear _us_ testify that Clara Forester had attacked me? And that, when my father attempted to intervene on my behalf Mr. Forester attacked him? How could you fools have possibly found my daddy guilty of such ridiculous charges? I demand that you rectify the matter to my satisfaction at once Judge Lucas."

The matter, however, was not rectified.

 _Not in the least._

Instead, while her father was being carted off to jail, Lindsay and her mother had found themselves escorted to holding. But on that day, the injustices suffered by her family were not yet at an end. Within two hours of the verdict being read, Lindsay and her mother learned that the FBI had brought charges of embezzlement and fraud against her father. By the time the day had come to an end, all of their accounts had been frozen and their lawyer had quit on account of their being unable to pay for his services.

When Lindsay was escorted into court the next morning, she was alone. Her mother had remained in holding and her father had already been transferred to prison. Her new lawyer, a measly public servant, had seemed quite uninterested in defending her. And so, Lindsay, like her father, had been fined fifty-thousand dollars and sentenced to five years of prison with the possibility of parole in three.

Although, it went without saying, life as Lindsay Lister knew it had effectively come at an end.

* * *

 **Saturday December 4** **th** **2004, Kellynch Hall** **(The Amber Room) 6:34 p.m.**

"We should probably start looking for a place to live," Rory gazed up at Dean, smiling contentedly in his arms.

Startled, Dean's head snapped up from where it had rested upon the top of Rory's head. For a moment, his feet faltered and the couple lost the rhythm of the dance, but Dean couldn't honestly care less, "You mean it?"

Looking up at Dean's hopeful face, Rory literally glowed with joy, "Yes," she laughed, "but let's just agree that this is for a trial basis for now. Okay?"

"Okay," Dean vibrated with excitement.

Sighing happily, Rory tucked her head back into Dean's shoulder as he swayed her from side to side.

Her grandparents vow renewal had gone off without a hitch and she was now enjoying a dance with Dean. Everything in her life just seemed so perfect at the moment. Dean had been granted his divorce and the decree and Miss. Winters had promised that it would be finalized by Wednesday at the latest. Finals were wrapping up and soon Rory would get to look forward to the Christmas season without any stress undue stress.

All was truly right with the world.

* * *

 **Posted December 24th 2017**


	36. A Very Merry Epilogue

**When it Snows**

By TheBlueSwan

* * *

 **A Very Merry Epilogue**

* * *

And so life, as it always had, carried on as time passed by. Rory Gilmore's pregnancy continued apace until one cold wintery morning, late in the month of February of the year 2005, she went into labour. By the time the sun had set that day, Rory had delivered two healthy newborns. A chubby faced son, christened Arthur Forester-Gilmore and a beautiful daughter named Lorelai _Jane_ Forester-Gilmore. In time, the babes grew into precocious children who delighted in vexing their parents, and greatly amused their grandparents in the process.

It must also be noted that, although Emily and Richard Gilmore had been less than pleased by the announcement that their beloved granddaughter was pregnant, none cherished the children more than they. In fact, the twins had so endeared themselves to their great-grandparents that the pair was often convinced into lending a helping hand with whichever scheme they cooked up. Needless to say, by this same avenue, Arthur and Lori often escaped a well-deserved scolding.

As for Rory, well she resumed her studies full-time in the fall of 2005. This required certain sacrifices on the part of both Dean and Rory. For Yale, being quite a distance away from Stars Hollow, necessitated Rory to live near campus during the school term. Whereas Dean's work required him to remains mostly close to Stars Hollow. This, unfortunately meant that the two lived separately for the better half of the year, handing off the twins to the other on alternate weeks. Neither the couple nor the children took too well to such an arrangement. Rory and Dean, because they had grown used to each other's support when caring for the pair of mischievious babes. Arthur and Lori, because when they were with their mother, they missed their father. And when with their father, they always missed their mother. And so it was that Rory and Dean spent the next two years juggling living arrangements, learning and adapting to their ever changing situation. Life in those days hadn't been particularly easy, but the end result had been very much worth it.

Their relationship slowly rebuilt and their love for one and other, the pair decided to move in together properly once Rory graduated from Yale in the spring of 2007. The better part of the summer of 2007 was spent searching for a suitable place for their family to live. In one of life's greatest ironies, that suitable place wound up being a lovely house situated on the borders of Stars Hollow. The home was spacious and grand yet retained some small town country charm to it. Although great attention had been given to the finer details of its architecture, comfort hadn't been sacrificed in the name of style. But what made the home so unique was the land on which it stood.

The home boasted slightly more than two hundred acres, three-quarters of which were untamed woods. The lands immediately surrounding the house had been tamed into a beautiful field, sprinkled in flower bushes and clusters of tree here and there. Rory's favorite feature had been the gazebo located on the edge of the woods. It was of a style with the town gazebo and had a beautiful flowing river not far from it. Dean, however, much like his mother, had a fondness for the orchard found on the right hand side of the property. With more than six hundred apple trees of varying breeds, the couple had more fruit than they knew what to with. So much so that, after that first year, the couple decided to sell off the excess to local business' such as _Doose's Market_ , _Luke's Dinner_ and, of course, _The Dragonfly Inn._ These endeavours were mostly spear-headed by Jane and Matthew Forester, who cared for the trees and were greatly rewarded for their work.

As for her career, once Rory graduated, she went on to become a respected journalist for the _New York Times_. And although she did work as a correspondence journalist for a short time, Rory ultimately decided the allure of such a life quickly faded in comparison to her children's bright little smiles. Her career, however, did not come at end with this decision, but instead broadened into horizons which she had never considered. When Rory was not working on pieces for the _New York Times,_ she worked on several of her own projects. These were mostly biographical in nature and did quite well on the market. But it wasn't until Rory decided to turn her focus closer to home that she truly reached remarkable heights. And so, in 2014, her self-biography entitled _Gilmore Girls_ topped the best-seller charts. It made such an impression on its readers that in 2016 Rory signed a contract with a production company. _Gilmore Girls_ would air its pilot episode in the winter of 2018 and everyone expected it would do quite well.

For his part, Dean Forester went on to graduate himself in the fall of 2008, at which time he founded his own construction company. The company itself was quite successful and Dean himself had gained quite a reputation for restoring historical buildings and constructions. Despite all of his success, it wasn't until he married Rory Gilmore on December 14th of 2010 that Dean fulfilled his greatest dream. The surfeit of joy Dean had felt that day had only been matched on three occasions; the birth of the twins, the birth of his youngest son, Richard, in 2012 and the birth of his youngest daughter, Elizabeth, in 2016.

As for the rest of the motley crew, well…

In June of 2005 Lorelai Gilmore had married Luke Danes in a beautiful summer wedding. In the three years that followed, Rory found herself welcoming not one, but two little sisters. Naturally, Marie and Victoria were well on their way to becoming just as eccentric as their mother and elder sister – and just as addicted to coffee, much to Luke's ever growing horror.

For Jane and Matthew Forester life did not change all that much in the ensuing years. Oh, they raised their daughter and took great joy in their grandchildren. But the Foresters were simple people and they took joy in the simple pleasures, never wishing for more than what they had. Clara Forester life, on the other hand, saw many changes. Naturally, the girl graduated from high school, attended college, fell in and out of love and such. But the biggest change in Clara's life, and its biggest surprise had been her decision to pursue writing. Although, her pursuits were more fictional in nature, she knew just as much success as her step-sister did. However, much to her parent's exasperation, at twenty-seven Clara remained just as impish and precocious as she ever had. To this day she still insisted that she would _never_ truly grow up – at least not in the traditional sense.

As for the Listers, well, life did not improve following the events of December 8th 2004. In fact, they actually worsened quite a bit. In June of 2004, Reginald Lister was found guilty of embezzlement and fraud. As a result he was sentenced to another twenty years in jail. Naturally, the Listers blamed the Foresters for this unfortunate event. Ironically, in this instance, there was some truth to it. In 1989 the FBI had suspected that Reginald had embezzled money from several of clients, but had been unable to prove it as they could not locate the stolen funds. When matters with the Forester escalated in 2004, lacking other funds, Reginald accessed his ill begotten gains. In his pride and conceit, Mr. Lister had convinced himself that he had fooled the authorities long enough for them to lose interest in him. Unfortunately, this proved to be a grievous mistake on his part.

With all of their funds frozen, Mrs. Lister had no choice but to begin selling off some of their assets. She began with smaller, but expensive items, hoping that the case against her husband would crumble and her funds would be returned to her. When Reginald was sentenced in June of 2004, Shannon Lister no longer had a choice – she sold the townhouse. Unfortunately, due to mounting debts and the fifty-thousand dollar fines warranted to her husband and daughter, Shannon was left with little money from the sale. Her options limited, Mrs. Lister had no choice but to obtain employment in order to stay afloat. However, due to her temperament, she was unable to hold a steady job and, for lack of experience, the only jobs Shannon was able to get only ever paid minimum wage.

Roughly six months after her incarceration, Lindsay gave birth to a healthy baby boy, much to her displeasure. In the aftermath of downfall, Lindsay blamed everyone and anyone but herself for her fate. Her son, likewise, also shared the blame in her eyes. As such, the selfish blonde was no predisposed to care for the child. Unwilling to take on responsibility for the bastard that had brought about her downfall, Lindsay used her mother's financial woes as an excuse to do away with the child. And so, unwanted by his father and mother, baby Lister was put out for adoption. Thankfully, the child proved to be quite lucky and was adopted by loving parents who taught him right from wrong.

Lindsay, on the other hand, proved quite unlucky in the following years. Due to her behavior, the blonde never qualified for parole and was not released before she had served out the full of her sentence in jail. Upon her release, Lindsay attempted to continue with her life as she always had. However, the altered circumstances of her family made this entirely impossible. And so, to her great dismay, the snooty little blonde found herself living in a derelict apartment in a crumbling city, working for minimum wage alongside her mother. And like her mother, rather than learning from the experience, Lindsay simply derided those individuals which she blamed for her present circumstances and continued to live her life in perfect misery.

As for Francine Hayden, feeling ill used by the Gilmores, she made several attempts at regaining her lost inheritance. Naturally, each ensuing attempt failed more spectacularly than the last. This, in conjunction with her spendthrift ways, ensured that within two years' time the woman had not only gone through all of her own cash reserves, but had spent the inheritance left by Arthur Hayden. Unable to live a moderate lifestyle, Francine had latched onto her son for financial support. And Christopher, although he did his best, was never quite able to deny his mother. And so, proving that he was just as reckless a spender as he had been in his youth, with the aid of his mother, Christopher saw to it that the majority of his inheritance was lost before 2012.

As for his relationship with Rory, it hardly needs mentioning that the breach was never repaired. Following his attempt to trick Rory into signing over her inheritance, Rory severed all ties with Christopher. This, however, might not have been such a permanent outcome if the man had even attempted to show a shred of remorse. But, as always, Christopher only acted in a manner which suited him. And so, rather than apologizing, he attempted to convince his daughter to do _what was right_ several times throughout the year of 2005. Once he realised that his daughter would never accede to his wishes, Christopher Hayden simply couldn't be bothered with her and dropped all contact with Rory. In 2012 Christopher attempted a reconciliation, but only because he hoped to convince her to fund the lavish lifestyles of both himself and his mother.

Rory, needless to say, did not acquiesce to his requests.

* * *

 **Sunday December 24** **th** **2017, Stars Hollow** **(Orchard House) 7:54 p.m.**

In her home, seated at the dining table, Rory Gilmore watched as her family laughed and enjoyed each other's company. Seated at her right, her husband of seven years fed their sixteen month old daughter. At her left, her mother, Lorelai, and her step-father, Luke, spoke to each other in hushed tones. Her little sisters, the twins and little Richard were running about the room, playing with one and other as Jane and Matthew Forester attempted to convince them to take their seats. Emily and Richard Gilmore looked on the children with indulgent smiles. Her step-sister Clara smirked and egged the children on from her seat at the dining table.

It was a mad house, shrieking with joyful screams and laughter.

And Rory wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

 _Once More - A Very Merry Christmas To All and To All A Good Year._

 _Love, TheBlueSwan_

* * *

 **Posted December 24th 2017**


End file.
